Promises to Keep
by Sweet Lu
Summary: Deeks is assigned to guard a little girl whose father is a high level researcher for the Navy. It's his first field assignment since recovering from his brutal ordeal. Reading the preceding two stories in this trilogy, "Judgement" and "Vengeance", will give context to this multi-chapter story, otherwise there are spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 1_

...

She was running away from him when he first saw her, oblivious to the shouts of her mother as she called for her to come and meet him. It made him laugh, but the look on her mother's face showed she was exasperated with her young daughter's actions and an embarrassed smile told him her wildness was not uncommon. He watched her slender, fleeting figure as she darted among the fruit trees, her yellow sundress flashing between the gray tree trunks. The smile remained on his face as he saw her look back briefly before disappearing behind a very old tree whose twisted shape was just wide enough to hide her. The grounds of her grandfather's orchard were littered with dying fruit lying in amongst the dirt clods and dried weeds and he stopped and knelt down to examine one of the apricots, turning his back to her to give her time to adjust to his presence and decide if she wanted to come out on her own. He knew she was nine years old and had spent a lot of time here, but that was about all. He had been assigned to protect her, so he needed to establish some kind of rapport and a level of trust he could count on.

"These are kinda small peaches, Mrs. Walters," Deeks said loud enough for the girl to hear.

Her mother looked quickly over at him and he winked and a small tremulous smile slowly graced her worried face. He knew she was afraid for her daughter and he could almost feel her fear, but he didn't want to rush the little girl, hoping instead to entice her to make the first move to interact with him.

"They're apricots," he heard her say softly, but adamantly from behind the tree. "Everybody knows that."

"Really? Apricots?" he said as he stood. "How can you tell?"

He turned toward her and skeptically tilted his head, keeping a perplexed look on his face with one eyebrow cocked dramatically until he saw her inch out from behind the tree, keeping her back in contact with its rough bark as she stared warily up at him.

"The leaves are kinda round," she said, before quickly looking down at her tattered red tennis shoes. "Peaches have long, narrow leaves."

She was a skinny little thing, wearing glasses with pale blue frames that tilted slightly on her face. Her hair was light brown and somewhat short, curling wildly around her head. He noticed the hem of her dress was ripped and dirty and a trace of dried blood clung to her skinned left knee, but she seemed unconcerned and looked slightly disgusted at his ignorance of fruit trees.

"Ruthie Fay you've spoiled your new dress," her mother said stridently as she moved toward her. "Were you up in the tree again?"

Ruthie nodded absently as she continued to stare at Deeks. She seemed startled as her mother took her arm, only looking up at her briefly before returning to look him over and appraise what she saw. She suddenly pulled free of her mother and walked over to the old tree and scrambled easily up into its gnarled limbs and settled sullenly in the crook of two of its branches, totally ignoring both of them and making him realize she wasn't going to be easy to get close to and that worried him, but didn't deter him. He decided to allow her the space she needed, sensing something familiar in her rejection of him and her odd behavior toward her mother. He studied her as she studiously ignored them both, seemingly lost in her own world. He saw that she would occasionally glance his way and knew she was just a little curious as to who he was and why he was here on her grandfather's property. After awhile, Deeks walked slowly up to the tree she was in and picked one of the ripe apricots clinging to a low-hanging branch, holding it up and examining it in the late morning sun.

"Is this a good one?" he asked, looking up at her with a pleasant grin.

"Yep. You can tell by the color and if it's soft," she said seriously. "Don't you know anything?"

"Apparently not much," he laughed, taking a bite out of the warm apricot and groaning with pleasure as its juice trickled down into his scruffy beard. "This is yummy. I bet you get to eat a lot of these."

"Pawpaw wouldn't let me eat too many. Said it would give me a stomach ache," she replied. "But he's dead now, so I'm gonna eat as many as I want to."

She looked at him with defiance and he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and his smile faded as he began to understand the depth of her sadness. She was the youngest of the three children and her mother had told him she had been the closest to her grandfather, a retired Lieutenant Colonel in the Marines. He had been killed trying to protect Ruthie's dad, his only son and a high level researcher with the Navy. From what Deeks had learned during the initial briefing, Ruthie had screamed at her father when he'd told the family what had happened, running away and scaring the hell out of her mother. When she was found, Paul Walters finally revealed to NCIS that he'd been receiving phone calls threatening his family if he didn't give a clandestine group certain information about a top secret project he was working on. It was the reason Deeks was here. Hetty had scattered the Walters family across Southern California, each child protected by a personal bodyguard. Kensi was with the teenage daughter somewhere in the valley, while Sam had taken Walter's twelve-year-old son under his protection. Callen was following leads and keeping a close eye on Walters, who was spending his nights in one of their safe houses after working twelve hour days on his project with a four man tactical squad protecting him at all times. Sandra Walters had refused to be separated from Ruthie, which left Deeks to guard them both with the help of a two-man squad, working undercover as farm laborers.

"I don't think your grandfather would have wanted you to get sick," Deeks said softly, his face serious and concerned

"You didn't know my Pawpaw," she declared, her eyes angry and pooling with tears.

"I know he was a brave man and died saving your dad," Deeks answered gently.

"My dad should have saved him," she shouted as tears streaked down her dirty face. She rose and began to climb higher in the tree, frightening her mother, but gaining Deeks' admiration.

"Get her down, Agent Deeks," Sandra Walters pleaded. "Please. She might fall."

"I never fall," Ruthie stated loudly as she settled into the tree, her legs straddling a small limb.

"Mind if I come up?" Deeks asked lightly as he placed a comforting hand on Sandra Walters' shoulder, giving her a reassuring look and finally getting a nod of acceptance from her.

"This is my tree," Ruthie said, furiously wiping away her tears as he started to climb up.

"You remind me of my partner," he said with a crooked grin. "She doesn't like to share either."

"Does she steal other people's trees?" Ruthie demanded.

"No, mostly just Twinkies and donuts," Deeks answered as he settled on one of the larger limbs close to Ruthie, looking out over the orchard toward the house.

"I like Twinkies," Ruthie said, suddenly shy now that he was so close to her.

"Ding Dongs are better," he stated, flashing her his best smile.

"Are you here to protect me from the men who killed my Pawpaw?" she asked, taking him by surprise.

"Yes," he said simply. "Did your mom tell you that?"

"I heard Mom and Daddy talking," she replied. "Do those men want to kill me too?"

"No, sweetie," Deeks said gently as he turned to look up at her.

"Then why are you here?" Her eyes were wide and he saw her tremble and he reached out and put his hand over hers as it gripped the branch above him.

"To make sure you stay safe, and so your mom and dad won't worry," he answered softly.

"They want to kidnap me, don't they?" she said breathlessly.

He bit his lip as he tried to decide if she should be told the truth or not. Her face took on a look of doubt and distrust so he knew he was close to losing her.

"I won't let that happen," he said.

"Well, you better be telling the truth, 'cause I don't want to be kidnapped," she said defiantly, yanking her hand free and crossing her arms.

"I'll never lie to you, Ruthie," he said softly, "And I need you to promise that you'll never lie to me, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded. "Pawpaw didn't like liars."

"Me either," he said.

"Do you have a gun?" she asked with an odd little lilt in her voice, as if she thought it was something he wouldn't tell her.

He nodded and watched her closely as she absently pulled a small leaf from the tree and twirled it around in her fingers.

"Can you shoot good?" she questioned, her face now openly curious.

"I can," he said.

"What's your name?" She asked as she swung her leg over the limb she was on and dropped down on the one next to him.

"Marty Deeks."

"That's a funny name," she said, a tiny smile breaking free.

"I'm a funny guy," he laughed and her smile widened.

"Do you have a grampa like my Pawpaw?"

"No, not for a long time," he told her honestly.

"Did somebody kill him?" She asked in a poignant whisper.

"No, sweetie. He died when I was about your age," Deeks answered, suddenly saddened by his own comment, remembering the quiet man who used to take him to the beach and tell him silly stories.

"What about your other grampa?"

"I never knew him."

She looked quickly at her mother before leaning in so she wouldn't hear.

"Do you like your dad?" She asked softly.

"Now that's kind of a complicated question for me," he said, looking past her shoulder, unsure of how to answer.

"You promised to tell the truth," she said firmly, her eyes never leaving his face and he knew this was her test question and that if his answer didn't satisfy her, she might never trust him.

"My first dad was mean," he said. "He didn't like me and I didn't like him."

"You have more than one dad?" She asked, her brow creasing as she pondered his answer.

"My real dad was killed in a car accident," he began quickly, but then slowly began to share with her. "The man I now consider my father is a good man that I love very much. He took me into his family and he didn't have to do that. His name is George and he lives on a ranch in Wyoming and trains horses. He taught me to ride a big horse named Sheila and he has four dogs, Stinker, Toby, Joker and Boo."

She giggled as he recited the names of the dogs, but then got quiet and serious, looking cautiously at him as she struggled with what she wanted to tell him.

"You can tell me anything, Ruthie," he said. "I'm not just your bodyguard, sweetie, I'm your friend."

"I don't think my daddy loves me very much," she said earnestly. "He gets mad at me. A lot."

"I know for a fact that he was really scared when you ran away," he said. "He even yelled at us for not finding you sooner."

"He did?" she seemed surprised by that information, looking down at the leaf in her hand as she sat quietly for a while.

"I yelled at him, too" she said. "I told him I hated him cause Pawpaw got killed. I told him it was his fault."

"No it wasn't, sweetie," he said as he gently touched her shoulder. "Your Pawpaw saved his life because he loved him. He knew what those men would do to him if they took him, so he tried to stop them and he did. Your father couldn't have kept him from doing that."

He saw a couple of tears slip down her cheeks and he inched closer to her as she began to cry softly.

"I miss him so much," she said as she choked back her tears.

"I know," he said gently.

"Please don't let those men take me," she whispered.

"I won't sweetie, I promise."

...

...

Hetty let her breath out slowly as she tried to calm her exasperation. Her phone call with Director Vance had gotten away from her and she was not pleased with herself for letting that happen. She rose slowly and began the process of making tea, the familiar steps giving her time to assess their conversation and the flash of anger that had sent the whole thing into a shouting match. She assessed her own state of mind about Deeks being back on regular duty, wondering just why her anger had flared when Vance had questioned her decision about assigning him as one of the bodyguards for the Walters family. He had made it quite clear that this case was a top priority and that no mistakes could be made and that had been the spark that had ignited a deep fury that had surprised her. His suggestion that Deeks wouldn't be able to handle himself had more than pissed her off and she had told the director in no uncertain terms what he could do with his opinion. It still made her furious just thinking about it.

She took another deep breath as she poured her Chamomile tea, staring into the pale liquid as memories of the past months tumbled around in her head. When she tried to focus on one memory, another one would crowd in and soon she couldn't keep them organized in her mind. She thought watching Deeks' continued progress over the last three months would have helped the memories fade, but that hadn't happened and that concerned her. When they had all returned from the celebration in South Africa she had insisted that each member of the team talk with a counselor and after some resistance they had all agreed, except for Callen. Deeks had refused to speak with Nate at first, but eventually began talking with him on the phone a few times a week or in person when he was in the city, but now she knew he only spoke with him occasionally when something was troubling him. This was only the second assignment she had given him, his first in the field, waiting until the majority of his physical injuries had properly healed. Kensi had revealed that he sometimes still suffered from nightmares, but the panic attacks completely disappeared after his reunion with the two little Sotho boys.

She was completely confident in his ability to protect the youngest Walters girl and to connect with her in a way that no one else could. After speaking with her parents, she knew the girl had an independent spirit and some of the stories they told her reminded her of herself at that age. Ruthie wasn't a girly girl, but what her father had always called a tomboy. Deeks had a way with children; he cared about them and had a natural ability to connect with them. She thought it was one of the reasons the two Sotho boys, Thuso and Dikobo had taken to him and helped him. There was just something in his eyes, a kindness that couldn't be faked and that children responded to. His brilliant smile didn't hurt either. It was one of the things she'd missed about him after they'd finally gotten him away from Jürgen for good. His humor and his smile had been beaten out of him and she would never forgive Granger for that, even though he was dead and long buried. Deeks had experienced the most vile of human nature and they had all worried that it would change him and it had, leaving him much more serious and quiet around them. It was the recent birth of Joe Atwood's son that had revitalized him and a smile always graced his face whenever he showed off his latest photographs of the baby. It was a new beginning for him and she hoped he would never look back. As she finished her tea, she wished she could feel the same for herself, but she knew she was still haunted by all of it and the dark memories and the guilt they represented were never far from her mind.

"You want to talk?" Callen asked softly as he approached. "I heard part of your conversation and I'd say the smoke still hasn't cleared."

"Not by a long shot, Mr. Callen," Hetty answered sullenly. "That man had the gall to question my decision to assign Deeks to guard the little girl. He didn't think he could possibly be ready."

Callen's eyes narrowed as he listened to her comment and it unsettled her even more.

"Do you have something you want to say, Mr. Callen?" she asked, challenging him.

"You're still worried about him," he answered kindly.

She looked down at her cup of tea and sighed at his perception. It was something she had always admired about him, yet it still bugged her when his intelligent insight was directed at her.

"How was he when you last spoke with him?" she asked softly, needing to know she hadn't put him in harm's way too soon.

"He seems fine, Hetty," he said lightly. "He likes the little girl. In fact, I'd say he's smitten. He thinks she's what Kensi must have been like as a child."

"And he sounded confident?" She watched him closely for any hesitation in his voice.

"Hetty, he passed every evaluation we threw at him," Callen said assuredly. "He wants to work and we need him back, especially on this case. He's good with kids and this kid needs someone like him. If she runs away again, it could jeopardize the entire operation. We'd never get Paul Walters to cooperate if that happened. You made the right decision, Hetty."

"Thank you," she smiled slightly and got a tentative one in return, but he still remained standing in front of her. "Something more you need to say, Mr. Callen?"

"He doesn't blame either one of us, Hetty," Callen said kindly. "We both know the mistakes we made, but he doesn't hold them against us. Why, I don't know, but if he ever did, he's forgiven us for them."

"Now, all I have to do is forgive myself," she said softly.

"That's the hard part," he said, the understanding plain in his reply.

"Stay close to him for me, Mr. Callen," she said. "I won't recover if anything more happens to him."

He nodded solemnly and she noticed a hint of unease about him as he turned to leave. They had discussed what had happened at length, knowing just what had gone wrong and what they would have done differently and though he hid it well, she knew he hadn't gotten past any of it quite yet either. She wasn't sure any of them had. They all needed this operation to run smoothly and be a success, and they needed to know that Deeks was truly back in mind and in body and able to handle himself in the field. This operation was more than just a case to them, it was a benchmark for their future as a team and none of them would rest easy until it was over.

...

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 2_

...

Ruthie tugged on his hand, pulling him along as she wound her way among the small plum trees, occasionally sharing some information that she thought he should know. She was a dedicated lecturer and he found it hard to keep the smile from his face whenever she turned to look him in the eye to make sure he was listening. She fascinated him. She was only nine, but her strong personality made her seem older and there was nothing tentative about her. She soaked up knowledge like a sponge and if he told her something, she remembered it. He was the one having trouble remembering all the myriad bits of detail she found important, getting a look of amazement from her if he told her he didn't know something. He knew he probably teased her with his supposed lack of knowledge too much and hoped she didn't catch on that he was faking most of the time, but not always. She definitely knew a lot about orchards, loved to talk about all the different cloud formations and he paid particular attention whenever she shared any details about the rugged area that ran behind her grandfather's land. He'd never been to this particular part of LA before and the outskirts here were more rural than city.

"How come you don't know that?" She had stopped and her hands were on her hips as she faced him.

"Sorry," he said shyly, giving her his best bashful look and a small embarrassed smile. He had been thinking about escape routes if they needed them and really hadn't been listening.

"It's okay," she said softly, taking his hand once again, but looking at it as she did and he saw her frown.

"What happened to your wrist?" she asked, touching the scars that still refused to fade.

"Old injury," he said quickly as he pulled his hand free and then asked a question about the plums.

She ignored his question and reached out and touched his other wrist, running her fingers lightly along the scars before looking up at him with questioning eyes. She took both of his hands and slowly brought them together until they were side by side, comparing them and then she let him go.

"Do they still hurt?" she asked quietly.

"No, they just look ugly," he said and walked on up the path that led to the back gate.

She caught up with him and took his hand, remaining silent as they stood looking up toward the hills above. The late afternoon light was becoming soft and he could hear the buzzing of bees in the weeds and thistles that lined the fence. The dry, tawny grasses were barely moving on the hill that rose up behind the property and live oaks covered the top of the ridge and clogged the wild arroyos that twisted and sloped down between the rugged hills where the city ended.

"That's a Red Tail Hawk," he said softly, pointing as it lazily rode the thermals.

"How do you know that?" she asked as she squinted up into the sky.

"George taught me," he answered.

"Well, I'm glad you know that at least," she said, suddenly laughing as she climbed up on the gate.

"Me too," laughing in return. "I'm not a very good student, am I?"

"You are kinda dumb about some things," she ventured, making him laugh out loud at her boldness.

She stared at him for a couple of minutes and he could tell she wanted to ask him something, but for some reason had suddenly become shy.

"What do you want to know, Ruthie?" he asked, staring out at the hill.

"Did somebody tie you up?" she asked curiously. "Is that why you have those scars?"

"Yeah."

It was all he could manage as he tried to swallow down the bad taste that suddenly coated and dried his mouth. He continued to look out at the steep ridges, but he knew more questions were coming and he tried to remain calm and just let them come. She was silent for some time and he looked over at her as she climbed up to sit on top of the gate, picking at the hog wire that covered it. She glanced at him and he could tell she was in deep thought, chewing her bottom lip and fidgeting as she struggled with what she wanted to ask. He didn't encourage her, hoping she would let it drop, but he knew somehow that she wouldn't. Her curiosity was one of the things he liked about her, but he was uncomfortable now that it was focused on him. He didn't want to tell her anything about what had happened to him, she was just a little kid, but if he lied she would know it. She was damn perceptive and he had promised to be truthful with her and it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Have you ever been down in the gully back behind that hill?" He thought his question might distract her, but he was wrong.

"Why did somebody tie you up?" she asked quietly, her eyes soft and gentle, but needy.

"I was taken by a man who was mad at me," he answered quietly.

"Why was he mad?"

"I told the truth and he lost his job," he said simply.

"He kidnapped you?" she whispered.

"Yeah, he and another man. That's why I won't let anyone do that to you," he said softly. "Do you trust me to do that?"

She nodded, but he could tell she was still curious.

"How did you get away?" Her brow creased as she leaned toward him.

"That's a very long story, but I had a lot of good people who helped me," he said. "Two of them were about your age."

"Really?" Her face brightened at that and a small smile appeared. "What were their names?"

"Thuso and Dikobo," he answered, unable to prevent a smile of his own. "They live in a small village in South Africa."

"Where's that?" she asked.

"Oh, so you don't know everything," he laughed, poking her in the ribs and making her giggle.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said shyly. "I like you."

"I like you too, Ruthie," he said softly.

They talked about small things until one of the tactical agents came by making his rounds and Deeks asked him to walk Ruthie back to the house and to stay with her till he returned. She gave him a questioning look, but went without comment, running ahead of Oliver as they made their way down through the fruit trees to the house. He watched her go, glad that their conversation was over. He reached for the latch to the gate and felt his right hand tremble, making him pause. That hadn't happened for quite awhile and it disturbed him. He steadied himself and purposefully undid the latch and walked through the gate, trying to shove unwanted memories back inside the deep recesses of his mind as he walked slowly up the hill behind the orchard. A light breeze began to blow and the waving grasses reminded him of Wyoming and his heart slowed a little. He welcomed those memories, needing the calmness they always brought him. He kept walking and slowly began to concentrate on his surroundings, familiarizing himself with the rough terrain and not stopping until he was deep in an arroyo covered by a twisted canopy of oaks. It was cooler under their branches and he stopped to catch his breath as a familiar sense of uneasiness slowly began to build.

He had never liked the woods. There was a wildness here that made him look around quickly, afraid he would run into some furry thing that would freak him out. Kensi always laughed at him about his fear of any place that wasn't covered in concrete and tall buildings or crisscrossed by asphalt streets and highways. He had always prided himself on being a city boy, seeing no reason to explore the Angeles National Forest or the deserts beyond it unless he absolutely had to. Nothing good ever seemed to happen to him in those places and he shuddered at some of the darker times he'd experienced in the past. It was only after being in Wyoming that he had begun to feel comfortable in open country. If Kensi had been with him, he would have tried to laugh it all off as she made jokes about his lack of wilderness training, but she wasn't here and he missed having her beside him. He fingered his phone as he looked around cautiously, toying with the idea of calling her, but he grunted with amusement as he thought about the razzing he was likely to receive and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He took a deep breath and after silently berating himself, started to survey the area, knowing it was possible that he might have to bring Ruthie here if the bad guys came for her.

He wanted to forget Ruthie's earlier questions, but they came back fresh in his mind as he explored the arroyo. They had rattled him and he was suddenly infuriated that he'd had such an emotional response to them. He thought he was done with all that, but now he began to worry that he wasn't ready for this assignment and that truly scared him. This little girl was counting on him to do his job and so was everyone else. He knew they would all be watching him, examining his every move to see if he was capable of being the agent he used to be. This operation would determine his future, and he had fought hard to have one. So, he took a couple of calming breaths and walked deeper into the woods, hoping to clear his mind of unwanted memories that would keep him from doing his job. He needed to settle down and focus on this assignment, not the past or his own fears. Ruthie deserved nothing less than his best. She was trusting him to keep her from harm and that's what he intended to do. When he turned back toward the Walter's place, he silently vowed to do anything to protect the little girl he had made promises to.

...

...

"Nell, you got anything on these guys yet?" Callen asked, his frustration obvious by his tone of voice. Another day was effectively over, and they still didn't know who they were dealing with.

"Sorry, Callen," she said. "They're not on anyone's radar that Eric and I can find."

"Whenever they called Walters, they used a burn phone," Eric said as he dropped into his chair.

"We know he met with them at least once," Hetty said. "Any video of that meeting?"

"Not that we can find," Nell said quietly. "There hasn't been any heightened chatter either, so they don't appear to be aligned with any known terrorist groups or foreign governments. We don't even know if we're dealing with one person or an organization."

"Mr. Callen, you need to talk to Paul Walters again," Hetty said firmly. "There's something he's not telling us."

"Why would he withhold information about the people threatening his family?" Eric asked.

"That's what I need to find out," Callen said, clearly unhappy with the lack of intel.

As he walked toward his car, he phoned Sam, hoping that hearing his voice might sharpen his focus. He didn't like having his team scattered all over the place. It made him uneasy and he knew Sam had argued against Hetty's plan from the beginning, being the ultimate team player that he was.

"What's up G?" Sam asked.

"We're still in the dark about this group and it's bugging me," he answered, a little more irritable than he intended.

"You miss me, don't you?" Sam laughed.

"What?" Callen was stopped by the comment.

"Your thought process is discombobulated when I'm not with you," Sam said lightly.

"Discombobulated?" he replied. "I didn't think Navy SEALs used words like that. Sounds kinda silly coming from a tough guy like you."

"I'm gonna let that comment pass, G," Sam replied. "You just think better when who have me to hash things out with, is all I'm sayin'. That's why you called me isn't it?"

"Not sure, actually," he answered as he slid behind the wheel and stared out at the mission.

"So, what's buggin' you?" Sam asked.

"How did this so-called group know about Paul Walters, let alone what he was working on?" Callen asked a question that had been bothering him since they got the case.

"You think it's an inside job?" Sam responded.

"Or someone who knows him. Someone he talks to about his work," Callen said.

"But not necessarily someone in the lab where he works," Sam said thoughtfully. "You think he knows who it is?"

"It's a possibility," Callen said. "He agreed to meet the guy without telling anybody and took his father along for backup."

"But, something obviously went wrong and they tried to grab him," Sam continued the thought.

"And his dad was killed," Callen finished.

"He doesn't trust us, Sam," Callen said. "I can see it in his eyes. I think he may still be negotiating with whoever it is in order to protect his family."

"And they'll want leverage," Sam said. "Whether he thinks so or not."

"Watch your back, Sam" Callen said. "Whoever it is, is gonna come after one of his kids."

"Or all of them at once," Sam replied.

"There would have to be a lot of players to do that," Callen said. "And they'd need really good intel to find you."

"Tell everybody to be alert, G," Sam said firmly. "We all just got set up and hitting us early would be to their advantage."

"I'm on my way to see Paul Walters," he answered as he started the car. "I'll call Kensi and Deeks on the way."

"Call me after you talk to Walters," Sam said with a small laugh. "It'll help you process what he says."

"Afraid he'll discombobulate me?" Callen asked.

"Something like that, partner," Sam laughed.

...

...

After talking to Callen, Deeks immediately put the tactical agents, Oliver and Cruz on extended guard duty. He walked the perimeter with both men as the evening sky darkened and between the three of them, someone would be awake throughout the night with comms on. Deeks always trusted Sam's gut feelings, so he definitely felt a heightened sense of awareness. He stood guard outside on the porch until the two men could catch a quick dinner and then he left them to go in and eat with Ruthie and her mother, who had been growing more nervous by the minute since watching him on the phone.

"Agent Deeks, could you help me in the kitchen while Ruthie sets the table?" Mrs. Walters asked, turning before he had a chance to reply. He shared a quick look with Ruthie, who just shrugged her shoulders as if this was a common occurrence.

"What's going on?" she asked nervously.

"Nothing new, Mrs. Walters," he answered gently, his blue eyes softening as he tried to ease some of her worry.

"I talked to Paul this afternoon and he's upset about something," she said urgently. "He wouldn't tell me why."

"He's probably just worried about all of you," Deeks told her.

"Of course," she said, looking haunted as she spoke. "He always called me the worrier in the family, but now it's both of us. I'm glad he has Preston to talk to."

"Who's Preston?" Deeks asked, instantly attentive.

"Preston Burke," she answered, her eyes darting away from him. "He's a close friend from our college days and our son's godfather. He and Paul were almost like brothers in college. Do you have brothers Agent Deeks?"

"Just one," he smiled as he spoke, still amazed at his own good fortune to have someone like Joe Atwood to call brother.

"We lost touch with Preston for awhile before Ruthie was born," she said, nervously picking at her fingernails as she spoke. "But, he showed up about a year ago and the two of them began spending a lot of time together, just like old times."

"What does Preston do," he asked, sensing that talking about the man made her uncomfortable and was someone they needed to check out.

"I'm not sure. I've never really asked," she said distractedly. "He usually doesn't stay long at the house. They go out someplace. Paul's work is very stressful and Preston seems to help him decompress."

"Has he ever been here?" Deeks asked slowly.

"I don't think he even knows about this place," she said as she dished their dinner into a serving bowl. "Paul's dad bought it after Preston left the city."

Deeks helped her bring the food out to the small table and then excused himself so he could call Callen and alert him about Preston Burke. There was something in Mrs. Walters' demeanor while talking about the man that bothered him. He began to watch her carefully as the three of them talked quietly over their chicken and dumplings. By the end of the meal, Deeks had once again become enthralled with Ruthie as she told stories she'd made up while sitting in the branches of one of her grandfather's apricot trees.

"So that's what you do when you're sitting up there," he laughed. "You should become a writer when you grow up."

"No way," she said firmly. "I'm gonna be a Marine like Pawpaw."

"Nonsense, Ruthie," her mother said, shaking her head in disbelief as she stared at her daughter.

"Girls can be Marines," she said loudly. "Can't they Deeks?"

"Yes they can, Ruthie," he said seriously. "Is that what your Pawpaw wanted?"

"No," she said softly. "He said it would be too hard for a little girl like me."

She wilted a little as she recounted what her grandfather had told her and Deeks hated seeing the look of defeat on her face so he began to tell her about Kensi.

"She sounds awesome," Ruthie said, beaming at her mother, who turned to stare incomprehensibly at Deeks.

"That's exactly what she is," he said with a soft smile, missing her even though they had only been apart a few days.

After clearing the table, Ruthie was sent to bed under protest, begging for more stories about Kensi, but eventually giving in to her mother's insistence. Mrs. Walters smiled wearily at him before asking if it would be alright if she spent the night at her sister's house because she was having problems and Deeks had nodded, noticing how her fingers kept fidgeting as she talked. He wondered if there was more to her nervousness than just her fear for her family. There was something about her mannerisms that bothered him, but he couldn't say for sure what that was. He made a mental note to discuss his concerns with Callen in the morning. As she gathered her things, he told her he would be sleeping on the couch in the family room tonight. He wanted to be as close as possible to Ruthie's room and she seemed flustered by that.

"Is everything all right, Agent Deeks?" she asked, frozen by his announcement.

"It's just closer to her room," he answered calmly. "And I'm sending Oliver with you to your sister's."

She nodded slowly as she moved toward the door, turning to fix him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't let anything happen to my daughter, Agent Deeks," she said, her voice hard and firm and so different then the voice he'd heard only seconds before.

"I won't. I promise."

...

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 3_

...

Ruthie hated going to bed so early. Her Pawpaw had never made her go to bed before ten, letting her sit up so he could read her stories and fix her warm milk with Oreos for dunking or ice cream covered in chocolate syrup, depending on the weather or her whim. It was one of the reasons she had loved spending time with him. He never treated her like a baby, but he did kind of spoil her and she had liked that. She sniffled under the covers as she was engulfed in memories of him and she burrowed deeper into the pillow as her tears came. She missed him. She missed the kisses he gave her every morning she was here and the stories he told about his own childhood on their walks through the orchards. He was the person who had taught her to climb and sitting up in the fruit trees always reminded her of him. He had never yelled at her like her father did. His voice had been deep, but he was always soft-spoken with her.

She sat up in bed and turned on her lamp. She reached for a tissue and slowly wiped away her tears and blew her nose, then paused as she heard a sound outside her room. She stiffened as she heard someone speak, but it was muffled and she couldn't understand the words. She wanted to be brave like her Pawpaw had taught her, so she slipped quietly out of her bed and tiptoed over to her door, cracking it open to take a look. The moon cast a pale light over the room from the large paned windows along the patio, but she didn't see anyone. She listened patiently, hoping to figure out where the sounds were coming from and then she heard a moan and saw someone sleeping on the couch. She saw the figure begin to toss and turn and become tangled in the light blanket that only partially covered him. The agent was sleeping in his clothes, his white tee shirt vivid in the silver light and his blond hair wild against the dark sofa pillow. He suddenly cried out and she knew he was having a nightmare and she slowly walked toward him. She hated having bad dreams, so she thought she should wake him up, but became cautious as she approached him. His mouth moved silently as he struggled and she noticed that he was holding his right hand close to his body and her heart went out to him. That man who had taken him had hurt him and that had to be the reason for his nightmare and she wanted to help him. She liked him and had from the minute he'd climbed up into the apricot tree and sat with her in its branches, gently talking to her. She had known then that he was kind and that she could trust him. He acted a little goofy, making funny jokes all the time and she was pretty sure he knew more about things than he let on, so she had continued to test him and he had passed every one and that had pleased her.

"Deeks," she said quietly as she shook his shoulder. "Wake up, Deeks. You're having a nightmare."

"Get away," he mumbled, his face bright with sweat. "Don't hurt them...please...don't...don't."

His voice was rough and sad and she noticed there were tears caught in his lashes, so she shook him harder, trying to get him to wake up. He sat up quickly, fists flailing wildly, his eyes wide with remembered fear, scaring her and causing her to stumble back, shivering even though it was a warm night.

"Ruthie?" he said, finally noticing her as he fought the lingering remnants of his dark dream. "Is everything okay?"

"You were having a bad dream," she answered tentatively as she chewed furiously at her lip.

"Sorry I woke you," he said, running his hands over his face and up through his unruly hair, before dropping his head to his chest.

"I get them sometimes," he whispered.

She watched him carefully and suddenly felt sorry for him, remembering her own nightmares after she'd found out her grandfather was dead. He saw his hands shakings slightly, so she walked over and picked up the blanket and put it across his shoulders and he looked at her, his eyes soft with hurt and regret.

"Thanks."

"Would you like some warm milk?" she asked gently as she leaned against his knee. "Pawpaw always made some for me after I had a bad dream."

"You don't have to do that, sweetie. I'm fine," he said as he pulled the blanket tightly around himself.

"We have Oreos," she said, hoping he'd accept the comfort she was offering.

"That sounds awfully tempting," he smiled warmly at her and she patted his shoulder before heading for the kitchen. "Do you need any help?"

"No. I can do it," she said firmly as she flipped on the lights.

He followed her into the kitchen anyway, his bare feet making soft sounds on the linoleum. He got the cookies down from the shelf as she poured the milk into a saucepan and they were silent as it simmered on the burner. He turned on the tap and washed his face, burying it in the dishtowel for a while before he turned to stare unblinking at the pan of milk. She watched him flex his right hand and noticed the marks that scarred it, but was afraid to ask about it, worried he might not like her asking questions right then. She took two clean mugs out of the dishwasher and he poured the milk into each one as she watched, already nibbling on one of the cookies.

"I hope I didn't scare you," he said as they took their milk and cookies back into the family room. She curled up in one corner of the couch as he sat down heavily on the other. She didn't want to tell him that his violent reaction had frightened her, so she just dunked another cookie into her milk and watched him as she ate it.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Ruthie," he said quietly before taking a deep drink of the milk. "I would never hurt you."

"I know," she said, yawning.

"Thanks for waking me up," he said softly.

"You were talking in your sleep," she said, hesitating before asking a question. "Did that man hurt your family?"

"Yes," he answered, looking down at the floor and balking at the instant memory.

"Did he kill them?" she whispered and hiccupped nervously as she spoke.

"No, Ruthie. My family is fine," he said slowly, not wanting to scare her anymore than he already had.

"I'm glad," she said. "You'd miss them."

He looked closely at her then, his blue eyes full of gentle kindness and tears started in her eyes and she quickly wiped at them.

"It's okay to cry, Ruthie," he said as he edged closer to her and took the mug of milk from her hand. "Sometimes it helps."

She turned her face into the back of the sofa as hot tears wet her face. She hadn't wanted to cry in front of him, but she couldn't help it. She felt him brush the hair off her forehead before resting his warm hand on her shoulder and it made her feel better and she slowly stopped crying and yawned as she looked up at him.

"Looks like you're getting sleepy," he said with a slow lopsided grin.

"No, I'm not," she said, looking a little grumpy.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," he said as he poked her gently in the ribs, finally getting a smile out of her.

He laughed and then stood and took her mug and carried it into the kitchen with his and washed them. As he dried them with a dishtowel he looked back at her and she had trouble keeping her eyes open. He turned the lights off in the kitchen and came back, taking her hand and leading her back to her room. When he tucked her in, she smiled at him and her eyes followed him as he settled down in the overstuffed chair in the corner.

"Are you gonna stay here with me?" She asked.

"Just until you go to sleep," he answered with a yawn, causing her to smile.

"Can you leave the door open a little when you leave?" she asked.

"Are you scared?" he asked leaning toward her.

"Not as long as you're here," she said sleepily.

"Then I'll stay awhile."

She tried to keep her eyes open, wanting to see how long he would stay, but sleep tugged her away.

...

...

The strained voice coming through the comm in his ear had him instantly sitting up on the couch. It took a moment for him to clear the sleep fuzz out of his brain, but the second sound, the unmistakable gasp of extreme pain had him up and moving, grabbing his gun and phone off the table and rushing toward Ruthie's room.

"Cruz?" He whispered, but he knew before he said his name that he was gone.

He quietly closed the door to the bedroom, leaving it cracked open slightly so he could see anyone approaching, then crouched anxiously by the little girl's bed, listening intently, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. He rapidly typed the agent in distress code into his cell and turned back toward Ruthie. The hushed sound of the front door opening had him placing his hand over her mouth, as he woke her with a whisper, the panic in her eyes shining in the darkness.

"We have to go," he whispered and saw her nod.

She grabbed his hand, squeezing his long fingers tightly as she scrambled out of her warm bed and fumbled to put on her glasses. He silently signaled her to be quiet and then led her out of the bedroom. They edged along the wall, following the shadows and he could feel her trembling as she tucked herself behind him. He was thankful the kitchen blocked their night visitors' view of the family room as he slowly opened the French door onto the patio. He heard a man curse softly as he bumped into something and with that he was out the door, closing it gently behind him before picking Ruthie up and running across the lawn to the fence. The dew under his feet reminded him that they were both barefoot, and he mentally kicked himself for that. It would make it rough on them where they were going. He sat Ruthie on top of the gate to the orchard and she swiftly jumped down on the other side as he slipped easily over the fence, afraid to risk any sound the opening of the gate might make. It was Ruthie who took his hand and led him through the orchard, winding through the trees she knew so well, pulling him along, her nightgown fluttering around her thin legs.

They had almost reached the outer gate when a man tackled him with such force he lost his grip on Ruthie's hand and his phone. He heard her whimper, but she didn't scream and he felt proud of her in the instant before the large man's fist connected with his left eye, dazing him. He saw a gleam off the blade of a knife and managed to block the thrust, gasping as the man brought his forearm down viciously just below his chest, forcing most of the air out of his lungs. As he held onto the man's knife hand he was hit hard in the mouth and the taste of his own blood made him focus and furious. He flipped the man off of him and they rolled over and over in the dirt beneath the apricot trees, grappling and fighting for any advantage until Deeks ended up on top and began slugging the man as hard as he could in the face again and again until he was out. Deeks staggered to his feet, stumbling up against a tree and grabbing a branch to keep from falling down. When he caught his breath, he looked quickly for Ruthie and panicked when he didn't see her.

"Ruthie?" His whispered as loud as he dared, but his fear that she'd been taken made him raise his voice when he called out to her a second time.

"I'm up here," she said softly from the tree behind him.

He searched for her among the upper branches and followed the path of the shaking leaves as she expertly climbed down, dropping into the dirt next to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"You're mouth is bleeding," she said with a tiny voice as she wrapped her arms around herself and stood shivering.

"I'm good, sweetie," he said as he reached for her hand. "We have to go now."

"Is he dead?" She seemed frozen, refusing to give him her hand.

"No, but we'll be in trouble if we're still here when he wakes up," he said and scooped her up in his arms and headed for the gate that led to the wilderness beyond.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he felt her trembling as they passed through the gate and moved swiftly up the low hill behind the orchard. The rough ground tore at his feet and he stumbled occasionally on random stones, but he couldn't stop, knowing they had to find a hiding place deep in one of the arroyos. He felt his own irrational fear of the wild building deep in his gut, but he tamped it down with annoyance. He was determined not to let Ruthie feel or see his uneasiness. She needed to trust him if they were to hold out until Callen came.

He carried her easily as they made their way along a steep ridge and down the side toward the deep arroyo he had explored earlier. His feet were stinging from cuts and bruises as he stumbled down the rocky slope, the stickers from the tall, wild grasses catching on his pants and the hem of Ruthie's nightgown. As they reached the bottom, he cussed a little too loudly as his bare foot caught on a downed tree limb, sending them both tumbling to the hard ground. He turned his body to try and shield her from the impact as they crashed down, but she cried out as they landed and scared him.

"You okay?" he asked quickly, sitting up to examine her arms for any breaks. "Does anything hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said softly as she jumped up quickly. "I just scraped my other knee."

He flashed her a quick grin as he got up, thankful for her resilience and reminding him once again of his partner.

"I think I skinned mine, too," he said, brushing off the stickers that clung to his ripped jeans.

He had just gotten to his feet when he saw the flickering beams of flashlights starting up the ridge and he swiftly picked up Ruthie and hurried to get out of the moonlight and under the shielding canopy of the oaks. He could hear the men calling to one another and tried to figure out how many there were, as he pressed deeper into the darkness that cloaked the wild arroyo. He could barely see in front of him and hoped his eyes would adjust eventually, but knew he had to keep moving.

"You're limping," Ruthie whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm lucky you don't weigh very much."

"I can walk, you know," she said earnestly.

He stopped at that and set her down, taking the moment to catch his breath. The trees were dense now that they had moved further into the ravine, the sturdy trunks of the oaks giving him a sense of protection and comfort. Ruthie's hand slipped into his and they moved forward side by side, weaving around the solid oaks and the rough granite boulders that reared abruptly out of the hard ground. He froze at the scream of an animal up to their left, and he heard Ruthie suck in her breath as she gripped his hand even tighter.

"That's a bobcat," she said, her voice wavering a little.

"Great," he murmured and reached instinctively for his weapon, even though he knew he couldn't fire it without giving away their position.

She pulled on his hand and he could see her brief smile in the darkness.

"Don't be scared," she said softly. "Pawpaw always said they're more afraid of us than we are of them."

"Let's hope he was right," Deeks said nervously as he pulled her away from where the sound had come from. "And who said I was scared?"

"Pawpaw was always right," she said, but moved closer to him as they walked. "They're still kinda scary sounding."

The next sound they heard was the soft burbling of a creek and he hurried her toward it, hoping it wasn't too deep or wide to cross. Dense chaparral lined the bank of the stream and a large granite outcropping was barely visible on the other side, a large fallen oak almost covering the pale gray rocks.

"Come on sweetie, I think we just found our hiding place," Deeks said, lifting her up before stepping into the cold water.

His bare feet slipped and slid across the smooth stones of the creek, causing his ankle to twist painfully, but he kept moving until he reached the other side. He set Ruthie down and sat down quickly on the ground to take his weight off his weak ankle. He felt Ruthie's hand on his shoulder and he quickly flashed her a smile, needing her to believe he was all right. The cool water had eased some of the painful cuts and bruises on his feet and he looked to see if Ruthie's feet were okay, but she just shrugged her shoulders and turned to look at the large granite boulders and the skeleton of the dead oak.

The light of the moon reached them through an opening in the tree canopy and he realized how visible his tee shirt was, so he began to grab handfuls of mud and smear it over his shirt to camouflage it and laughed when he felt Ruthie's small hands rubbing mud down his back. She giggled nervously as she worked and he couldn't help but smile.

"You're lucky your nightgown is blue," he said with a crooked grin as he made a small mud-ball and playfully tossed it over his shoulder at her, wanting to ease the fear he could feel in her trembling hands.

"No fair," she said indignantly, slapping a scoop of mud on the back of his neck with a snorting laugh.

Their game quickly ended with the clear sound of a branch snapping on the other side of the stream. He was up instantly, picking up Ruthie and moving swiftly toward the downed oak, ducking under its massive limbs and into the opening between two huge granite outcropping. He set her down and pushed her as far back into the niche as he could. He signaled for her to be quiet and pulled his gun, silently moving into a position that gave him a view of anyone crossing the creek. When he saw the chaparral move he took aim and held his breath, but slowly let it out with a relieved laugh as two raccoons shuffled through the underbrush and paused to drink.

"Raccoons," he whispered toward Ruthie.

"I hate raccoons," she said as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them, shivering in the cooling air.

Deeks took one last look before scrambling back to sit down beside her. She scooted over to tuck herself up against him, resting her head against his shoulder as she hugged his arm tightly. He looked down at the top of her head and he suddenly felt fiercely protective of her and it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Somehow in just a few days, this little slip of a girl had crawled her way into his heart. If he ever had a child he knew this would be how he would feel all the time and that realization captivated him. His thoughts turned to Kensi and then to George as he pulled his arm free and wrapped it securely around Ruthie, pulling her into a warm hug and feeling content even though he knew they were in danger. This must be how a father is supposed to feel, he thought, and his chest tightened as he remembered the warmth of his mother's arms around him as a small child. His real father had never hugged him, but George had made up for that and he understood now how you could come to care so deeply about someone not your own. If he ever had a daughter, he hoped she would be like Ruthie, fearless and smart, but that would go without saying if Kensi were her mother. As Ruthie snuggled up again his side, he knew that is what he wanted more than anything. He wanted this feeling to go on forever and he made a promise to himself that when this was over, he would make Kensi understand that he wanted a daughter to protect and love and hug and tell silly stories to. He just hoped she wanted the same thing.

...

...


	4. Chapter 4

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 4_

...

Callen let out a frustrated grunt and got up, pulling on his jeans before padding on bare feet toward the kitchen. The heat usually didn't bother him, but tonight it had been just one more thing that had kept him awake. He glanced at his watch before running his hand over his closely cropped hair, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping any more that night, even though it was only two in the morning. He paused in front of the open kitchen window, letting the slight stirring of a breeze through the screen cool the sheen of sweat on his bare chest as he reviewed his conversation once again with Paul Walters. He absently moved around the kitchen, finally stopping to pull out the coffee maker Sam had given him as a housewarming gift and laughed softly, remembering Sam's comment accusing him of being discombobulated when they weren't working closely together. The word seemed appropriate for what he was feeling now and it irked him that his partner had been right. He thought briefly of calling him and pictured Sam's angry face at being awakened this early in the morning, so he put the inclination aside, hoping a shot of caffeine might be a decent substitute to sharpen his thinking.

He knew Walters was holding out on him, but he couldn't pin down why. He sensed his fear, but his family had been threatened, so that wasn't a surprise. He also had seemed angry. Although not unusual under the circumstances, there was a subtle, underlying anger that bothered Callen and made him suspicious. He had asked him about his old friend Preston Burke, but was immediately rebuffed, only adding to his skepticism. After their meeting, Callen had called Nell to have her look into Burke, but it was late and she hadn't found anything yet that would raise any red flags.

He took his mug of coffee and walked out onto the back patio, slumping into an old director's chair he had found next to his neighbor's trash cans a few weeks ago. The thing barely held his weight, but he liked it. The fabric of the seat and back had been worn soft with use and he enjoyed sitting in it in the early morning like he was doing now, finding that the cool air and deep sky calmed him and gave him the solitude he needed to organize his thoughts. As he finished his coffee, his mind turned toward his conversation with Hetty and her feelings of regret about their handling of Deeks' kidnapping and their plans to protect him from Jürgen after they got him back the first time. His own feelings of guilt surged within him once again and he hadn't really gotten past them or even dealt with them since getting back from the final trip to South Africa. He had made promises. Promises he hadn't kept and that had almost gotten Deeks killed. George Atwood had been honest enough to call him on it and his heartfelt words had stung and remained forever fresh in his mind. If he had listened, Deeks might not have suffered another beating and Kensi and his new found family might not have been terrorized or have had to watch Jürgen's brutal assault on the man they all cared so deeply about. If he had not been so stubborn and so convinced that his plan would work, George and his cousins might not have had to kill a man. They seemed to have no regrets, but he knew it had shaken them all in some way, just as it had Deeks when he found out the details. He had promised Deeks' new family that he wouldn't let him be taken a second time, but he had failed and he wasn't used to that. Once again he felt his heart sink into his stomach and gnaw at his confidence in his decision-making.

He stood abruptly to his feet as disturbing images of that day in the snowy meadow crowded into his mind. Deeks had seemingly forgiven him, showing no signs that he blamed him and that made his guilt even harder to deal with. If Deeks had berated him or screamed accusations at him or simply beat the shit out of him, he would have welcomed it. That would have given him an odd sense of relief that he was getting the punishment he deserved, but that hadn't happened and now he was left alone to come to terms with his failure and he wasn't doing a very good job. He had a tendency to try and repress what bothered him emotionally, it was how he had always protected himself, but with Deeks he found that difficult. He'd had to watch him struggle every day to return to the man he had been before his kidnapping and an agent they could count on again.

Deeks was different now, more reserved and much less trusting. He still joked around some and bantered with each of them, but then would become silent for days at a stretch. When he had finished his physical therapy, Callen had started joining him for a morning surf like he had when he'd first come back and couldn't drive and over the last couple of months the two had grown closer than they had ever been. During a surf less than a month ago, when Deeks had been particularly quiet, he had asked him if he harbored any resentment toward the team and him in particular over what had happened to him and had gotten a look of subtle bewilderment in return. Deeks had regarded him carefully before suddenly pulling him into a hug, pleading with him not to take on any blame, telling him he had caused everyone enough pain without them feeling they were somehow at fault. The comment had stunned him and made him angry, realizing Deeks was holding onto some guilt of his own. They had argued about that and Deeks had stormed off, even leaving his board behind. When he'd found him sitting alone on the bluff, Deeks had apologized and told him he just didn't want to think about it anymore, wanting to put it all behind him and go on with his life and Callen had understood and respected that. An unexpected wave of emotion had washed over him as Deeks had spoken and he'd found himself in unfamiliar territory.

After the Lee Chao case he had begun to feel protective of Deeks and they had become friends, but now he realized just how deeply he cared about the younger man. When he'd spontaneously hugged him, Callen had flashed on the hug he'd received from George Atwood in the hospital in Germany, a generous expression of acceptance and fondness that had touched him. Now, sitting on his sparse patio, looking out into the dark depths of his backyard, he experienced that same welling of unfamiliar feeling that had shook him that day on the beach. Ever since they had found him in South Africa, his feelings for Deeks had grown. Keeping Deeks at arms length emotionally was no longer an option. He was inside Callen's carefully constructed perimeter, the one that was closest to his heart, the one that kept him safe from being hurt, the one with the sturdy walls and iron clad protection. He had only let a few people inside that final barricade. He considered them family. Now another person had made his way inside and Callen's heart and mind were startled by the intrusion. He let the feeling settle, exploring it mentally and emotionally; finally sighing as he accepted the comfort and contentment he was experiencing. Then he wondered if Deeks felt the same and his old tendency to withdraw before the anticipated rejection came, reared up in his mind, leaving him struggling with how to deal with it. He stood and walked out onto the cool grass, lost in thought until he heard his cell phone ring, and he turned back toward the house, thankful for the diversion.

"Deeks is in trouble," Eric said breathlessly.

The words slammed into him, each one like a bullet to his heart, leaving him feeling suddenly hollow and bereft. He gripped the phone tightly, unable to immediately respond.

"Callen? Are you there?" Eric asked loudly. "He sent an agent in distress code a few minutes ago and he hasn't picked up my repeated call backs."

"Did you try the other two agents on site?" Callen finally managed to ask.

"Only one picked up," Eric said, his voice suddenly losing all energy. "And he was with Mrs. Walters at her sister's house in the valley."

"Have a tactical squad meet me at the farm," Callen yelled into the phone as a rush of adrenalin shot through him. "And alert Kensi and Sam. Tell them to get the kids to their alternate locations and send tactical squads to back them up. Stay on comms, Eric."

Callen didn't bother to wait for Eric's reply as he shoved the phone into his pocket and raced to the bedroom to throw on a dark blue tee shirt and slip into his shoes, grabbing as many weapons and ammunition as he could carry. As he slid into his car he paused briefly to take a deep breath, his earlier promise to Hetty to watch out for Deeks taunting him as the engine roared to life.

"Not again," he whispered angrily, violently pounding the steering wheel to match the pounding of his heart. The wheels of the sleek car squealed in the night, Callen's anger infusing his whole body as he pushed the car to its limits within seconds of leaving his driveway. He locked down everything in his mind except what he needed to do when he got to the farm, cursing silently and trying to control himself and the fear that his promises might not be enough again.

...

Callen killed the lights and the engine, coasting to a stop two blocks from the Walters' farm. The tactical squad pulled up almost immediately and silent signals were passed between him and the men as he put in his comm and quickly donned his bulletproof vest before moving swiftly toward the house, their muted shadows skimming along the hushed street. He whispered to the six-man squad to use silencers on their weapons, concerned about frightening the neighbors and causing chaos and unwanted attention and possibly bringing in the police, which he definitely didn't want right now. The lonely sound of a large dog barking a couple of houses down, startled him and made him hesitate briefly, but the dog stopped and he swallowed hard at the interruption. As they reached the darkened house, the squad leader signaled to Callen and he moved silently to his side to look down at the body of Julio Cruz, dead in the bushes, his throat cut. He saw the tightened looks on the faces of the team as they dealt with the loss of one of their own, and he quickly motioned two of them to go around back as he and the others quietly pushed open the front door and fanned out through the rooms. Callen noticed a crumpled blanket lying discarded on the couch in the family room and stopped when he saw Deeks' shoes. The team leader slowly pushed open the door to the little girl's room as Callen moved to back him. The bed was empty.

"Report," Callen spoke softly into his comm.

The house was empty.

"Do you think they took them, sir?" The squad leader asked.

"No. There'd be signs of a struggle," he replied. "No way Deeks would go down without a fight."

"Even if they got to the girl first?" he persisted.

"Then we'd have found his body," Callen said sharply as he brushed past the man and walked out to the back yard.

The dew had settled earlier and in the dim moonlight Callen saw signs of the passage of a large group of men and he quickly began to track them. When they reached the orchard, he saw two small footprints where Ruthie had jumped down into the dirt on the other side of the fence and he smiled thinly, knowing Deeks had planned an escape route if the house was breached. He ordered the men to spread out and they moved quickly and quietly among the fruit trees.

"Sir, I've got something," one of the men reported.

The squad surrounded the disturbed ground and Callen knew there had been a fight here. He looked out toward the steep hills behind the orchard, remembering Deeks' shoes left abandoned, as he'd raced to get the little girl out of the house and someplace safe. As he stared up at the stark ridge, one of the men handed him Deeks' dusty cell phone and his earwig, causing him to shake his head in frustration at the knowledge that they would have no communication with him.

"Flashlights on the ridge, Callen," the leader said and opened the gate, moving purposely forward onto the rough ground beyond the orchard.

Callen followed, but stopped as he tried to guess which way Deeks might have gone, realizing that if they guessed wrong, Deeks would be up against heavily armed men on his own with a little girl to protect.

"Gus, take three men and follow those flashlights. Take 'em down. Silently, if possible," Callen directed. "You two are with me. We go quiet and we go fast. Once we're in the trees, visibility will be at a minimum, but no flashlights and no firing unless you're sure of your target."

"Where are you Deeks?" he muttered to himself as he moved out, the letters on his vest standing out in the darkness. Once over the small hill, Callen's instinct led him down the side toward the arroyo below. The ground was rough and he remembered that Deeks had traversed it barefoot. He reminded himself that Deeks was tough and had survived a terrible ordeal, but he couldn't help worrying about him and wanting to protect him from any more physical harm.

The three men fanned out as they reached the bottom of the hill and entered the murky shadows under the trees. Callen raised a fist and the men halted as he listened for anything that might tell him they were on the right track. Hearing only the soft sounds of crickets and frogs, he motioned them forward once again. The trees seemed to close in around them as they moved deeper into the arroyo and the growl of some kind of animal made them pause. The moon was almost full and sent a thin, filtered light down through the canopy of oaks and Callen was thankful for that. His eyes had adjusted quickly to the darkness and he kept his breathing shallow as he listened for any hint of someone moving up ahead. When he heard the sound of water he motioned for his men to fan out for a search while he knelt down to examine the ground for what he thought was a footprint. He reflected later that it probably saved his life as the flash and explosive sounds of automatic weapons fire erupted through the canyon, taking down both of his men.

Callen immediately fired toward the muzzle flashes and heard a man grunt as he was hit. Then the dirt around him danced at his feet as the men began firing back at him. He dove behind a granite boulder, trying to make himself as small as possible, returning fire when he could. He heard another man scream as one of his shots found its mark, but then he had to reload and turned in time to see two men rushing toward him firing. As he ducked behind his boulder, he saw a flash of white as a figure crashed out through the chaparral lining the creek, firing at the men and hitting one before the other man tackled him. He knew it was Deeks and he rose quickly, trying to get a clear shot as the two men fought, but Deeks was between them. Then the big man slammed his boot down on Deeks' bare ankle and he cried out and collapsed to one knee as the man swung the butt of his weapon up, slashing it across the side of Deeks' head, knocking him out. Callen had his opening, moving quickly forward and firing, hitting the man in the head. He cautiously made sure the man was dead, kicking his weapon aside as he moved to check on his men before speaking on comms with the rest of the tactical squad up on the ridge.

"I've got two men down and Deeks is hurt," he said, and then listened to their report. "Secure the prisoner and send me some help down here."

He took a deep breath before hurrying to Deeks, who was lying on his back, blood seeping into his hair from the gash above his ear. Callen felt his stomach clutch in remembered fear. He pulled him into his arms and leaned back against the big oak behind him, fighting to control the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach as Deeks' body sagged across his chest, his head cradled in the crook of his arm.

"Did they kill him?"

Callen raised his gun at the whispered sound, but immediately lowering it when he saw the little girl, whimpering as she stood among the bushes. He could see tears on her face as she hugged herself tightly, shaking violently, her eyes wide with terror.

"No, Ruthie," Callen answered softly. "But, he'll have a very big headache when he wakes up."

She slowly began to walk towards them and kneeled down when she reached Deeks' side, staring into his face before reaching out a trembling hand to gently grip his arm.

"Deeks? Wake up, you're scaring me," she said, crying softly and Callen felt him move and groan as he came to.

"Hey, Ruthie," Deeks murmured. "I thought I told you to stay hidden."

"I got worried," she said, hiccupping as she tried to choke back her tears.

"I'm okay, sweetie," he said, his eyes slowly blinking as he became fully conscious.

"Dammit Deeks! What the hell were you thinking?" Callen suddenly exploded angrily.

"I was saving your ass," he said, grimacing as he spoke. "It's my job, remember?"

"You could have gotten killed, charging into a firefight like that without a vest," Callen almost shouted, unable to control his emotions after seeing him lying so still on the ground.

Deeks struggled to get up, pushing Callen's arms off of him and turning back to look at him.

"You were outnumbered," Deeks said loudly. "What did you want me to do, let them kill you?"

"Well, it was a stupid move," Callen said vehemently, his anger still hot.

"Don't you yell at him," Ruthie said loudly, stepping between them, her fists tight by her sides as she faced Callen.

"It's okay, Ruthie," Deeks said, smiling at the surprised look on Callen's face. "He just doesn't want to say thank you."

"What?" Callen fumed.

"I can take it, Callen," Deeks said as he sat cross-legged on the ground, tentatively feeling the side of his head. "I'm okay. You can stop worrying."

"You don't have to prove anything, Deeks," Callen said quietly.

"Don't I?" he asked.

Ruthie turned to face him, wiping her tears as she climbed into his lap and curled up against his chest. Callen watched him as he spoke quietly to her, hugging her gently as he brushed her hair back, soothing her with kind words. There was no question the two had made a connection and he looked forward to letting Hetty know she had made the right call in assigning him to watch over Ruthie.

"I don't like your friend," she suddenly whispered very loudly. "He's mean."

Deeks laughed and Callen just shook his head and got to his feet. The rustle of dried leaves alerted him that someone was coming and he signaled for Deeks to be quiet as he readied his weapon once more. A shout out from the squad leader had them both letting their breath out as Callen moved to greet them. One of the men had grabbed Deeks' shoes before heading out and Callen brought them back and set them on the ground in front of him.

"Bet you missed these," he said with a smirk, and Deeks quickly slipped them on his bruised feet.

"Are we going home now?" Ruthie asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Yeah, if Deeks can walk," Callen said gently. "He's gonna be a little dizzy from that big bump on his head."

"Well, why don't you help him?" she asked as she got up and pulled on Deeks' hand, trying to get him on his feet.

Callen got his shoulder under Deeks' arm and lifted him to his feet. He slumped against him as he was hit with a wave of nausea, groaning as he tried to steady himself.

"Don't you throw up on me, Deeks," Callen warned.

"Why are you being so mean?" Ruthie asked. "He told me you were his friend."

"I am, but still," Callen said with a tilt of his head.

"Callen, someone needs to carry Ruthie," Deeks said softly so Ruthie wouldn't hear. "She's barefoot and scared and I don't want her to see those dead men."

Callen turned to look at him, seeing the concern in his eyes and thought for the first time what a good father he would make someday, and he envied him. He didn't think he would ever have children, but seeing Deeks with Ruthie had left him with a strange feeling of longing and it surprised him. He nodded and waved to the squad leader, Gus, who had children of his own.

"Ruthie, this is Gus," Callen said quietly. "He's gonna carry you, okay?"

"I'm not a baby," she said, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips as she looked up at the three men.

"Ruthie," Deeks said, a warning clear in his voice.

"What?"

"Deeks is hurt, Ruthie," Callen told her gently. "He won't tell you how bad his head hurts because he doesn't want to scare you, but I know. He needs a doctor and we'll get home quicker if Gus carries you."

Her eyes widened as she looked carefully at Deeks and then nodded. Gus scooped her up in his arms and started back through the trees as the first hint of morning light filtered down. She looked back over his shoulder and kept her eyes locked on Deeks as Callen helped him follow.

"She's something, isn't she?" Deeks said.

"So are you, Deeks," Callen said.

"Was that a thank you?" Deeks asked with a crooked grin.

"Maybe," he answered, shaking his head. "You did good, Deeks, except when you forgot your shoes."

"Now your just nitpicking."

They joked and badgered each other as they made their way up the side of the ridge, Callen finally relaxing when they neared the back gate to the orchard. Deeks had gone silent halfway back and was stumbling more and Callen knew his head probably felt like it was going to explode, but they were both alive and the little girl was safe and that almost made it a good day. He saw Ruthie wiggle free of Gus and yawn as she held the gate open for them, taking Deeks' hand as they walked into the orchard. He motioned to Gus to help Deeks the rest of the way and then stood with his phone to his ear as he called OPS.

"We found them both, Hetty," he said quickly. "Deeks has a few bumps and bruises and probably a concussion but he'll be okay. He protected the little girl and saved my ass, but they killed Julio Cruz at the house and two of my tactical squad."

"Thank you, Mr. Callen," she answered. "I'll let the others know. They've been concerned, especially Kensi. Any ideas about who we're dealing with?"

"These guys were pros, Hetty," Callen said as his anger returned, "Probably mercenaries with military training. I'm sending photos and the squad took one guy alive."

After sending Eric the photos of the dead mercs, he stood quietly, looking back up the ridge, thinking how this day might have ended if Deeks hadn't escaped with Ruthie and he suddenly felt a wave of emotion rush through him. Whoever had orchestrated this had now made it personal for all of them. As he worked back through the details one thing stood out in his mind. Deeks had not hesitated to come to his aid and he chided himself silently for yelling at him. He had survived his first firefight since being cleared for duty and he suddenly felt very proud of him and turned back toward the house, determined to let him know that.

...

...


	5. Chapter 5

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 5_

...

Deeks felt Callen's hand on the back of his neck as he stood looking down at Ruthie as she slept. She had insisted that he tuck her in when they got back to the house and he had managed to do that in spite of his dizziness. She had wanted him to stay with her, pleading with him as her eyes roamed guardedly around her room until he sat down next to her on the bed. He knew she was still frightened and she'd tried bravely to hide it from him, reminding him once again of Kensi. She'd held his hand tightly until exhaustion finally overcame her and she slowly slipped off to sleep. When he stood up, Callen was behind him.

"Come on Deeks, let the doctor take a look at your head," he said quietly, guiding him from the room.

"You doubted me out there, Callen," Deeks said, his voice low and full of hurt.

Callen patted him softly on the back before coming around to face him, hanging his head briefly, and he could tell he was trying to think of how to respond. He had been surprised by Callen's anger at him after the firefight and it bothered him to think that he still had a long way to go to regain everyone's trust.

"That's not why I yelled at you, Deeks," he said, suddenly staring right at him as he tried to find the right words to say.

"You said what I did was stupid, Callen," his voice rising in anger and frustration. "Don't you think I can do this job anymore? Is that what that was about? Because, if you don't trust me, then tell me what the hell more I have to do to prove myself?"

By the end he was yelling and quickly brushed past Callen and headed outside. He needed air and the space to let himself cool down, suddenly unsure if he would ever be the man he once had been, a man they could all trust in a firefight, a man they were confident in and knew they could count on to do his job. With all they had been through since he'd been back, he thought Callen would be on his side, but obviously he was mistaken and that hurt. Callen had been the one who truly understood what he was going through when he first came back to LA. He had been there for him and helped him through those dark, turbulent times when he was having daily panic attacks and he thought they had grown close. He thought they had become more than just colleagues or teammates, but now he wasn't sure the man even wanted him on his team and that almost crushed him.

"Deeks." Callen said as he came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

He pulled free and started walking out into the orchard, trying to escape from the emptiness and fear of failure he was feeling. Pain was throbbing behind his eyes and he could feel the gash on the side of his head begin to bleed again, but he didn't stop until Callen stopped him, grabbing his arm and turning him around roughly, his eyes intense as they bored into him.

"Would you just listen to me?" Callen asked loudly, his grip tightening on his arm.

"Okay. Go ahead. Talk."

Callen looked as frustrated as he felt, so he just stood there and waited for him to say something. He could see how upset he was and that was unusual for him. Callen was always in control of his emotions, but in the last few hours he had seen a side of him he'd never seen before and he didn't know what to make of it, but knowing it had something to do with him. He watched the senior agent closely as he battled his emotions, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words.

"You scared the shit out of me, Deeks," he finally said, looking away as he spoke. "When Eric called to tell me you'd sent an agent in distress code..."

He stopped and looked up at Deeks, struggling to continue.

"I thought we'd lost you again," he said, barely above a whisper. "And then when you charged out of the bushes right into the line of fire, I wanted to beat the crap out of you for putting yourself in danger."

"But that's what we do," he said.

Somewhat confused by what Callen was trying to say, he quickly realized that the senior agent was still dealing with the aftermath of his kidnapping. He knew they all felt some guilt over his final ordeal, especially Callen, but nothing he had said to the man over the past several months seemed to penetrate those intense feelings of guilt, let alone ease them.

"Seeing you lying on the ground like that," Callen said huskily. "It was hard to take. It was hard because you're not just some guy I work with anymore. You're not just a good friend either."

He paused, looking unsure and slightly embarrassed as he searched for words.

"You mean more to me than that and I don't want to see you hurt or killed," Callen finally stammered.

Deeks was stunned into silence by his confession. Callen looked drained by his own words and turned once again to stare out at the ridge, his jaw clinching with strong emotions. Deeks didn't know what to say, so he took a page from George's book on life and threw his arm around Callen's neck and pulled him into a bear hug.

"Hey, man. Why do you think I came out firing? You were there for me when I got back and I can't tell you how much it meant to me that it was you helping me. You stood by me through all the shit I was dealing with and I would never have forgiven myself if I'd let something happen to you," he said, his voice low, wavering slightly at the end.

Callen turned to look at him, noting the vulnerability in his eyes and then the beginnings of a slow smile.

"What?"

"Sam's gonna be jealous," Deeks said, as the old familiar crooked grin spread across his face.

That got a snort of laughter out of Callen, but then they just stood silently, side by side, adjusting to the shift in their relationship, unsure of what to do or say next.

"You did good out there," Callen finally said. "I'm proud of you."

"So you're admitting I saved your ass," Deeks said, his face lighting up again.

"I was supposed to save yours," Callen said quietly.

"You have to believe I've recovered, man. Don't baby me, Callen," he said earnestly. "You have to let me do my job. I can take care of myself now."

"Yeah? Then why do you have blood running down your face?" Callen shot back.

"He kicked my weak ankle," Deeks said in his own defense.

"You shouldn't have forgotten your shoes," Callen said, raising his voice, but he had a smile on his face as he shoved Deeks back toward the house.

"Nitpicker," Deeks responded.

"You're gonna need stitches, tough guy," Callen laughed. "Let's see how tough you are when that needle comes out."

"That's not funny, G," Deeks said, swallowing hard at the thought, not even aware he had used Callen's initial.

"It will be if you go down like that time the Five-0 boys were here," Callen said, smirking as he held the door open for him.

"That was a long time ago," he said wistfully, trying not to think about all the stitches he'd endured since then.

Luckily the doctor had Deeks lie down on the couch to examine him. It took eight stitches to close the gash above his ear and the medic gave him some cream to take down the swelling around his black eye, but he started getting nauseous as the man cleaned and bandaged up a couple of the deeper cuts on the bottom of his feet. Callen, who'd been hovering near by, brought over a cold washcloth for him to press against the back of his neck until his dizziness passed. He began to feel every one of the punches his ribs had absorbed and after taking a couple of pain pills, his energy slowly ebbed away. As exhaustion overtook him, the voices of the tactical squad became just a hum as his mind began to shut down. A touch on the arm roused him and he looked up to see Gus, the squad leader holding his phone out to him.

"I made the mistake of answering the last one and got an ear full," Gus said.

"Gus? Did you find Cruz?" Deeks asked as he sat up and took the phone.

"Yeah. The bastards slit his throat," Gus said and quickly turned and walked away.

Deeks was shocked by the stark reality of his words. Anger and sadness warred within him as he remembered the young agent and how easy he had been to talk to and joke with. He realized he owed the man his life for warning him, knowing he would have suffered the same fate if they'd captured him. Thinking of Ruthie in the hands of such brutal men chilled him and his need to protect her was almost painful in its intensity.

"Callen, we have to move Ruthie," he said as he stood unsteadily to his feet. "They'll try again."

Callen came over and pushed him gently back down on the couch and sat down next to him.

"Right now, she's safe," he said. "We're all staying here for a little while, so you can both rest and recover. Try and get some sleep."

"Okay," he said, feeling drowsy as the pain meds began to work. "I better call Kensi first. She left me twelve voice mails and a couple of angry texts."

"She knows you're okay," Callen said as he got up to give him some privacy. "But I'm sure she'll be glad to hear your voice."

"Kens I..." He never got to finish as her distressed voice flooded out of the phone.

"Why didn't you call me?" she asked, the hurt and concern coloring every word. "Hetty said you were hurt."

"Just a black eye, a couple of sore ribs and some stitches," he said.

"How many stitches and where?" she demanded.

"Eight," he answered. "I saved Callen's ass, but the guy bashed me in the head."

"So, you have a concussion, too," she said, her voice rising as she spoke. "Have you seen a doctor? What did he say? Is it severe or...?"

"Kensi, I'm good. Quit treating me like a baby," he said, somewhat annoyed by her questions.

"You're starting to sound like Ruthie," Callen said as he passed by.

Deeks just shook his head, setting off a wave of dizziness that had him gripping the table in front of him.

"Deeks? Talk to me," Kensi said. "Are you okay? God, I hate being way out here. Hetty should never have split us up."

"I can take care of myself, Kens," he said, suddenly very tired and eyeing the pillow he'd tossed aside last night.

Callen walked up and took the phone from his hand.

"He's needs to get some rest, Kens," Callen said bluntly. "He'll call you later."

"Did you just hang up on her?" Deeks asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Lie down and get some sleep," Callen said, pointing at him with a look that left no doubt who was in charge. "I'll wake you up after I talk to Hetty again. She's interviewing the guy Gus captured on the ridge."

"Yeah, okay," Deeks said, suddenly feeling drained as he began to succumb to fatigue. He did as commanded and let himself fall over onto the soft pillow, barely feeling the blanket that Callen draped over him.

He wasn't sure he had actually slept at all when he heard the tearful shouts of Mrs. Walters echo through the house.

"Where's Ruthie," she yelled, her voice thick with tears.

Deeks sat up immediately and held on as the room spun around him.

"Is she hurt? Oh my god, did they take her?" she shouted frantically at him.

"Mrs. Walters, Ruthie is fine," Callen said calmly as he stepped between the two.

"I put her to bed, Mrs. Walters," Deeks said as he stood up to face her.

"You were supposed to protect her," the woman's face was red with anger and her eyes filled with venom as she took a step towards him. "There were two of you and they still almost got to my daughter. Where's the other guard? Too embarrassed to show his face?"

"They cut his throat," Callen said bluntly, silencing her instantly.

Sandra Walters' hand shakily moved to cover her mouth as she looked between the two men.

"Oh, my god," she said as tears streaked her face. "I'm so sorry."

She began to shake and Callen reached for her, but another man stepped up behind her and wrapped her in his arms as she collapsed against him.

"It's okay, Sandy," he said calmly. "Ruthie's safe. She's in her bed."

"Who are you?" Callen asked, wondering how the man had gotten past the guards.

"Sorry. Preston Burke," he said with a brief smile as he reached out to shake hands. "I'm an old friend of Sandy and Paul's."

Callen exchanged looks with Deeks and then both looked sharply back at the man, assessing what they saw as he led Sandra Walters over to a chair and helped her sit down. The man looked like a well-to-do businessman and they relaxed a little as they watched him talk calmly with Mrs. Walters. He was tall and well built and dressed in very expensive clothes. His facial features congregated in the middle of his face, highlighted by small hazel eyes, a nondescript nose and tightly compressed lips, all set in a ruddy face topped off by light, reddish blond hair that receded from his forehead except for a forelock that flipped up slightly. It was the man's eyes that held Deeks' attention. He thought he detected a hardness there that belied his soft voice and he felt slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden, but unsure why. The man stood solidly next to Sandra Walters, his hand resting on her shoulder and then looked up at the two agents and smiled coolly.

"We need to see Ruthie," he said, "Sandy will feel better when she sees her safe in her own bed."

Both agents nodded and the man helped Mrs. Walters to her feet and they passed the guard and went into Ruthie's room and closed the door. Deeks suddenly wanted to be in that room. His protective instincts had surged when the door closed and he couldn't explain it.

"Oliver?" Callen motioned for the tactical agent to come closer. "When did this guy show up?"

"He was at her sister's house when we got there last night," Oliver told him.

"Did you overhear any of their conversation?" Callen asked.

"No sir. They insisted I stay outside," he said. "He left about eleven, but came back early this morning after I informed Mrs. Walters about what had happened."

"She must have called him," Callen said quietly.

"I'm gonna check on Ruthie," Deeks said and headed for her room.

He slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him, watching for anything that would give him a reason for the way he was feeling. Mrs. Walters sat down on Ruthie's bed and fussed with the blankets, looking up at Burke ever so often, her eyes searching his face. The man kept his hand on her shoulder, but his eyes never left Ruthie's face and when she woke up he smiled. Ruthie looked confused but finally let her mother wrap her in her arms. She glanced suspiciously up at Preston Burke, but when she saw him leaning against the door, she pulled free of her mother and looked curiously at him.

"Hi Deeks. Are you still dizzy?" she asked sleepily. "How many stitches did you have to get?"

He smiled as he moved toward her and caught Burke staring at him, a distasteful look on his face before his eyes widened slightly when he noticed the blood on his dirty clothes.

"You were injured?" the man asked calmly.

"Just eight stitches, Ruthie," he said, ignoring the man. "Nothing to worry about."

"The bad guy knocked him out," Ruthie explained.

"You shouldn't have had to see that, Ruthie," her mother said, looking accusingly at Deeks.

"I didn't," Ruthie said. "Deeks made me promise to stay in our hideout, but I got scared when he didn't come back after all the shooting."

"Was she ever in any real danger?" Preston Burke asked quietly.

Deeks just stared at him, unsure what to tell them and not wanting to scare Ruthie any more than she already was. The man's question seemed odd and slightly naive and flippant somehow and he studied his face for some hint of what he really meant by it.

"I think we should let Ruthie get some sleep," he finally said. "We've been up since two this morning. We can talk outside."

He briefly touched Ruthie's shoulder and smiled at her before turning and walking out of the room. He waited impatiently for them to follow him, but it was some time before they came out into the family room. He noticed Callen watching him and the two men exchanged guarded looks as Burke paused, letting Mrs. Walters pass him and go into the kitchen.

"Gentlemen? Please. We'd like an explanation of last night's events," Burke said, as if asking for a report on a business meeting. When he went into the kitchen, Callen quickly came up to Deeks and took his arm.

"You up for this Deeks?" he asked. "I don't think you slept for more than twenty minutes."

"I'm good," Deeks said. "I can sleep later. I think Mrs. Walters deserves to know what happened, I just don't know how much detail to give her. She's already freaked out."

"Keep it simple," Callen said. "We still don't know anything about Burke yet, so the less details the better."

The two spent some time discussing what to tell them and finally Deeks nodded and took a deep breath before walking into the kitchen with Callen close behind. Burke was talking quietly to Mrs. Walters as she fixed him coffee, and he could see by her body language that she had relaxed a little. He also noticed how comfortable the two were with each other, but then they'd been friends for a long time.

"You look like you could use a cup of coffee, Agent Deeks," Burke said kindly. "Sandy always uses the best beans."

Deeks took the mug and the familiar smell calmed him and he drank deeply of the dark liquid, knowing he could use the shot of caffeine. As he lowered the mug he saw their eyes on him, hers worried and slightly distrustful, his calculating and sharp. Preston Burke seemed quite at ease, almost smug, and carried himself as if he was used to being in control.

"Anytime, Agent Deeks," the man said, and he could feel Callen tense up as soon as the words were spoken.

Deeks looked at the senior agent and saw the telltale clinch of his jaw, a clear sign he was pissed at the man's condescending tone. Deeks closed his eyes and took a deep breath before beginning, feeling his heart race as he told them of Julio Cruz's warning before being killed. Then he methodically went through what happened, watching their reactions as he quickly sketched out his actions, noting the intake of breath from Burke when he told of the fight in the orchard. After describing their hideout in the arroyo, Callen put a hand on his shoulder and he stopped talking and Callen took over, giving them a watered down version of the firefight.

"You're a brave man, Agent Deeks," Burke said with a small smile. "I'm sure Sandy would agree that Ruthie was in good hands."

Mrs. Walters said nothing, but numbly nodded her agreement.

"Ruthie was the brave one," Deeks said as he walked up to stand in front of Mrs. Walters, forcing her to look at him. "She was scared, but she handled it well. You should be proud of her."

"She's always been strong," she replied. "Thank you for protecting her and I'm sorry about the other agent."

Deeks noticed a dullness in her eyes as she spoke and thought she was probably in shock. He reached out and squeezed her arm and was surprised when Preston Burke moved closer to her and put his arm around her, pulling her away, making him step back next to Callen.

"What are your plans now, gentlemen?" Burke asked. "Whoever these people are, they seem determined and I can't see you keeping Ruthie and Sandy here for them to try again."

"We'll get back to Mrs. Walters on that," Callen said. "Right now, I need Agent Deeks to get some rest and I need to meet with my boss."

"I've invited Sandy and Ruthie to my estate in Bel Air," he announced, looking directly at Callen. "It's gated and has a state of the art security system. There is plenty of room for your man here and I'm sure it offers more protection then this little place."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Deeks said, looking quickly over at Callen.

"I've already accepted his offer, Agent Deeks," Sandra Walters said firmly. "And you really have no say in the matter."

She pushed past them and walked out of the room, leaving both agents stunned and Callen extremely pissed.

"I have a car waiting," Burke said confidently as he handed his card to Callen.

"Ruthie's exhausted," Deeks said angrily. "She needs to rest."

"I'm quite sure she will be able to rest quite comfortably when she gets to my home, Agent Deeks," he said dismissively. "And if you are to remain her bodyguard, I suggest a shower and some clean clothes."

Deeks was seething before he finished and he wasn't sure what he would have done if Callen hadn't had a firm grip on his arm.

"This is a matter of National security, Mr. Burke," Callen said, moving between the two men. "And we are charged with protecting Paul Walters' family against whoever is threatening them."

"Paul is under twenty-four hour protection, is he not?" Burke asked. "I'm sure whoever wants what he knows are much more interested in him than in Ruthie and her mother."

"Are you deaf, dumb and blind?" Deeks sputtered in anger. "They just tried to grab her less than six hours ago."

Preston Burke's face became rigid and his eyes icy as he stared at Deeks.

"Be very careful how you speak to me, Agent Deeks," he said coldly. "Or you won't be Ruthie's bodyguard for long."

"Burke," Callen said. "Deeks is and will be her bodyguard for the duration of this case. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course," he said, suddenly smiling thinly. "But you might instruct him not to be so rude in our future dealings. He will be staying in my home and I will be respected there. Is that clear, Agent Deeks?"

Deeks nodded sullenly as the man walked past him and out of the room.

"Callen? Can he just move them into his house without our approval?" Deeks asked, suddenly exhausted by the anger raging through him.

"Unless we arrest Mrs. Walters, I don't think we have a choice," Callen said thoughtfully. "She is obviously under this guy's influence and she can choose not to have us involved at all if she wants too."

"Doesn't Paul Walters have some say in this?" Deeks asked.

"That's what I'm going to find out," Callen answered.

"Who the hell is this guy, G?" Deeks asked, exasperated by the situation.

"I've got Nell on it," Callen said. "Meanwhile, you need to get some rest before going over to Burke's place."

"I'm not leaving Ruthie alone with that guy," Deeks said tightly. "I'll be ready to go in ten minutes."

"Deeks, you've got a concussion and you haven't slept more than a couple of hours in the last twenty-four," Callen took his arm and forced him to look at him. "You need to be sharp around this guy and right now you're running on adrenalin. I'll have Gus and a couple of the tactical agents follow them over and get a look at the layout. Ruthie knows him. She'll be alright Deeks."

"I don't trust him, G," Deeks said quietly. "I'll do what you want, but there's something not right about this guy and I don't like Ruthie being anywhere near him."

"I hear you, brother," Callen said without thinking. The two men looked calmly at each other before Callen threw his arm around Deeks' shoulder and walked him out of the room.

...

...


	6. Chapter 6

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 6_

...

"I don't want to go there," Ruthie said loudly and stubbornly to her mother.

Deeks suppressed a laugh as he watched the confrontation from the couch in the family room. Ruthie was still dressed in her nightgown and had her pillow clutched to her chest as she stood solidly in front of her mother and Preston Burke. He saw the signature sign of determination on her face, but there was a hint of desperation and tears as well, and he felt his heart go out to her.

"It's already been decided, Ruthie," her mother said, looking weary and exasperated.

"I don't care," Ruthie said. "I'm not going. I wanna stay here at Pawpaw's house."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ruthie," Preston Burke said, taking a step towards her. "The decision is final, now gather your things. I have a car waiting."

He reached out and took her arm, and Deeks rose quickly to his feet. The thought of the man touching her was deeply unsettling, but he had no time to intervene as Ruthie took a step away from Burke and then bolted for the patio door. He watched her race out across the lawn toward the orchard and he knew exactly where she was going and he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"You find this funny, Agent Deeks?" Burke asked sharply.

"Yeah, kind of," he said, "She does like to have her own way."

"She's a child," the man said. "She doesn't get to make decisions."

Deeks experienced a wave of melancholy at his words, remembering what it had felt like as a child to have no control over what happens to you.

"She'll be in the orchard," Sandy Walters said, looking over at Deeks with a pleading look. "Could you please go get her? She shouldn't be alone out there."

Deeks nodded, knowing she was right, but still not happy about them staying with Preston Burke. He ran his hand up through his still wet hair and sat back down to put on his shoes. The shower had restored some of his energy, but he was still slightly dizzy and extremely tired, his headache mean and persistent. He stood shakily to his feet and pulled his phone, texting Callen, who was outside with the tactical squad, to let him know what had happened and that he would probably be a while, knowing it might take some time to convince Ruthie that she should go with her mother.

"You have ten minutes, Agent Deeks," Burke said, checking his watch and sounding irritated by the delay.

"Seriously? You do realize I don't work for you. Right?" Deeks asked, as he bit back an inventive obscenity. "I intend to give Ruthie as much time as she needs. She's been through a lot, remember?"

"I'll get her myself," Burke said, abruptly turning toward the door.

"Preston," Sandra Walters said as she put her hand on his chest to stop him.

"You usually climb trees in a three piece suit?" Deeks asked with a crooked grin.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Burke asked, his controlled facade slipping.

"She'll be up in one of the apricot trees, Preston," her mother said apologetically.

Deeks nodded to the woman and walked unhappily toward the door. He knew exactly how Ruthie was feeling, because he didn't want to go to Preston Burke's house either. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to convince her to do something he was against himself, but he knew he had to, whether he was happy about it or not.

He found her sitting up in the branches of the old apricot tree where he'd first seen her. She had left the pillow on the ground and he wondered briefly if she knew he would be the one who would come to find her. He climbed up and sat silently on one of the lower branches, ignoring her as he looked up at the ridgeline they had fled to not that many hours ago. He realized how lucky they'd been that the mercenaries hadn't found them. Then his mind settled on the flash of fear he'd felt when the gunfire had exploded across the creek. He had shoved Ruthie into a smaller niche in the granite outcropping and made her promise to stay there until he came for her. As he'd pulled his weapon, a raw feeling roiled uncomfortably in his gut, knowing without a doubt that Callen was the one being fired on. As confident as he was in the senior agent's abilities in a firefight, he couldn't keep his fear for him at bay and his instincts kicked in and he'd raced to back him up.

"How come you're not talking?" Ruthie asked curiously.

"Just thinking," he said as she dropped down beside him. "You were very brave out there, Ruthie."

"I was kinda scared," she said, taking one of his hands and examining once again the scars that remained.

"That tickles," he laughed as her small fingers traced the long, pale scar running up his forearm.

"Were you scared when that man took you?" she asked, plunging him back into memories he only wanted to forget.

"Yes," he said honestly, hoping her questions would stop there.

"Were you scared last night?" she asked, looking intently up at him.

That question caught him off guard and he paused before answering, unsure whether he should tell her.

"A little," he finally answered. "But, I wouldn't have let them take you, Ruthie."

"I know," she said, accepting his answer before looking out over the hills.

"I was afraid when you left me," she said quietly. "Why did you do that?"

"Because Callen is my friend and I couldn't let him get hurt," he said, his voice catching in his throat as he spoke, wondering what would have happened to her if he hadn't come back. Questions about his actions instantly flooded his mind. He was supposed to protect her, not leave her and put himself in danger. If both he and Callen had been killed, those men would have found her eventually and that realization sobered him. He had let his personal feelings interfere with his job and put Ruthie at risk and he wondered once again if he was really ready to be back in the field. His hand trembled as he ran it through his curling hair, his mind swirling with uncertainty and worrying if he was the right person to protect this little girl.

"Why did he yell at you?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"I scared him," he said softly.

"Well, you scared me too," she said a little grumpily.

"I'm sorry, Ruthie," he said. "I didn't mean to scare either one of you. I was just trying to do my job."

Was he, he wondered? Was protecting a seasoned agent his job in this case? He wasn't sure and that disturbed him. But deep down he knew the answer. Deep down he knew he had made a mistake. This innocent little girl was his job and he had left her alone out there. He couldn't have another lapse like this. He couldn't fail to protect another child, his heart fluttering at the dark memories that still haunted him.

"Okay, but don't you get knocked out again," she said firmly. "I didn't like it."

"I'll do my best," he said with a soft smile.

He watched her closely as they sat quietly for a while, determined not to push her about going to Preston Burke's place. He wasn't sure exactly what it was about the man that bothered him, but his instincts from his years as a cop told him to be vigilant around him. If he was being honest with himself, he thought the guy was a pompous ass, reminding him of some of the high priced attorneys he'd dealt with when he worked for the DA's office.

"Why do I have to go with that man?"

"Because your mother thinks you'll be safer at his house," he said.

"Will you come with me?" she asked barely above a whisper as she took his hand once again.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

...

...

"How's he doing Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked as he walked into her office and collapsed into a chair.

"He's in the boat shed," he said with a sigh. "I finally convinced him to get some sleep. He's running on fumes Hetty, and worried about the little girl."

"And what are you running on, Mr. Callen?" She asked astutely, noticing the tiredness around his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hetty," he said, brushing aside her familiar concerns. "He's the one with the concussion."

"You sound worried about him," Hetty said as she handed him a cup of tea.

"I shouldn't be," he said reflectively. "He looked like his old self out there, Hetty, but I wanted to throttle him for charging into the middle of a firefight without a vest."

"But?"

"But, if he hadn't we might not be having this conversation," Callen silently sipped his tea, his hollow gaze hinting at the intensity of the fight.

"Is there something else, Mr. Callen?" She asked gently, noticing a vulnerability in his admission that surprised her.

"Seeing him lying on the ground unconscious like that brought it all back, Hetty," Callen said softly. "He's fought so hard to get back to normal, and all I could see in my mind was him lying in that little room in South Africa, beat to hell. Seeing him hurt again..."

"You weren't prepared for that," Hetty said kindly.

"I should have been the one protecting him, not the other way around," he said angrily.

"Do you think he needs protection, Mr. Callen?" she asked. "Don't you think he's up for the job?"

"Of course I do. He proved that last night," Callen said, struggling to understand his own feelings. "He put himself in danger when he didn't have to."

"But that's not how he saw it, is it?" she asked knowingly.

"I yelled at him about it and it pissed him off," Callen answered. "He thought I didn't trust him."

"But this isn't about trust is it, Mr. Callen?" she asked, waiting for him to open up. "You yelled at him because you were afraid for him. Caring about someone makes it very hard to see them in danger. Does he know how you feel?"

"Yeah," Callen said softly. "You know I'm not very good at talking about my feelings, but I didn't want him to get down on himself again, so I told him."

She had watched the two men carefully over the past couple of months and had been pleased at how close they had become. Callen never made connections easily, always shielding himself by pushing others away, afraid to risk his feelings, always expecting rejection, always ready to run like he had as a boy to keep from being hurt. There was something about Deeks that had brought out a protective streak in Callen after they'd gotten him back from Jürgen. She thought it was probably what he'd always done in foster homes when there was a younger kid to watch out for. His deeper feelings for the younger man had begun during the Lee Chao case and she saw first hand the toll Deeks' kidnapping had taken on him. He was a master at controlling his emotions, it was one of the reasons he was so good at his job, but when Jürgen had gotten to Deeks the second time, he was almost devastated when she'd told him, reacting with such raw rage and guilt that it took Sam's strong counsel and her own firm demand for action to keep him on course. Sam had told her he had finally gotten himself back under tight control on the flight to Wyoming, sharing with Sam his deep feelings of guilt about the whole episode with Granger. Callen didn't like making mistakes and blaming himself for the pain Deeks went through had made him feel responsible for the young agent. She wasn't sure what it would mean for the two men in the long run, but she knew it could well change the dynamics of the team and she needed to watch them all carefully.

"How did your interrogation go with the merc? Did he give us anything?" Callen's question drew her out of her reverie and she saw him watching her with an inquisitive eye.

"Richard Carter, a low level gun for hire," she told him. "The man who hired him was the one you shot in the head; former military as you suspected. Carter had no idea who the client was. He did tell me they'd been paid in cash and that they were instructed to kill everyone except the little girl."

Hetty saw a small flash of cold anger pass behind his eyes when she told him that and his jaw quickly hardened with the signature resoluteness she always counted on from her senior agent.

"Where were they going to take her?" Callen asked. "There had to be a rendezvous point with whoever hired them."

"He wasn't given that information and he didn't ask," Hetty said, her annoyance plain to see.

"Nell find out anything on Preston Burke?" Callen asked in obvious frustration.

"Nell's research shows him to be a highly successful business man," Hetty began. "He runs a large multi-national corporation mainly dealing in import/export with his own fleet of ships. He inherited the company from his father seven years ago and built it into the highly successful business it is today."

"So money is no object," Callen noted.

"Not in the least," Hetty said. "The company stock is all privately held by the family as far as we can tell. He is the primary stockholder, having ousted his sister from the board three years ago and buying out the majority of her stake in the company. His corporate headquarters is in New York, but the company has offices in Paris, Hong Kong and Dubai, where he has financial dealings with some of the richest men in the world. He has a law degree from UCLA, which is where he became friends with the Walters."

"Makes you wonder what he's doing out here," Callen said. "Is he married?"

"He divorced his wife a year ago. No children," she replied

"So, why would a high powered guy like Burke be spending his time hanging out with his old college buddy?" Callen wondered. "And spending the evening with Sandra Walters the night her daughter is almost kidnapped?"

"Makes you suspicious, I'm guessing," Hetty surmised.

"Yeah, very," he replied.

"You don't like him," Hetty stated.

"Not much, no. He's a little too self-important for my taste," he answered. "And I didn't like the way he treated Deeks. He talked down to him like he was the hired help."

"Don't imagine that went over too well with Mr. Deeks," Hetty said with a tight, knowing smile. "It will bring out the cheeky part of his personality."

"So far all I've seen is anger, but you're probably right," Callen said as he stood to go. "I know he doesn't like him, and he sure as hell doesn't trust him. The man likes to dominate and Deeks really bristled at that."

"Keep an close eye on him, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "After what he went through with Jürgen, he might not be able to control his response to someone trying to dominate him."

Callen paused at that and she could tell he was in full protective mode. She could only hope her cautionary concern was unfounded and that Mr. Deeks and Mr. Callen would both be able to control their emotions.

"I need to go back and check on him," Callen said as he headed out.

"Of course, Mr. Callen," she said. "Kensi will meet you there. I thought she could look after Mr. Deeks today while you have another talk with Paul Walters. He's been quite agitated and angry since we told him it was too dangerous for him to go to his father's house to be with Ruthie."

"Maybe this time he'll answer my questions about Preston Burke," he replied. "Does he know Ruthie and his wife are going to stay with Burke?"

"I thought it might be better if you tell him face to face and see what kind of reaction you get," she said.

He nodded with a small smile and she watched him go with some trepidation, wondering if his concern for Deeks would interfere with this investigation. It was obvious that he didn't like Burke's easy dismissal of Deeks and she hoped that his dislike for the man wouldn't distract him from finding out who was actually after the research Walters was working on. If Burke was involved, they needed to know and fast, because now he had the little girl under his roof and would soon have Deeks as well, and that was leverage they couldn't afford.

"Nell?" she spoke into the phone. "Dig a little deeper on Preston Burke and tell Eric to see if he can hack the man's security system. I want eyes on this guy and I want to know if he has any dirty little secrets too."

...

...

Kensi paused just inside the door of the boat shed when she saw Callen lean over Deeks' sleeping form and gently shake his shoulder to wake him. She watched him rouse slowly from his sleep, but then jerk away from Callen and that surprised her. He hadn't reacted to being touched like that for several months, but this time he didn't cower as he used to, his hands instead formed into fists as he sat up quickly to confront whoever had touched him. She moved quickly inside as he apologized briefly to Callen for almost hitting him. The ugly gash on the side of his head stood out as he ran his hands shakily through his hair, his expression a familiar one and she knew he was in one of his dark moods. Even though he had apologized to Callen, he refused to look him in the eye and Callen seemed angered by that.

"You can't be like this now, Deeks," Callen said sharply.

"And what way is that?" He snapped back.

"Moody and distant," Callen said a little too loudly. "You're on a case, man."

"Seriously?" Deeks got up and faced Callen, his hands again balling into fists. "You think I forgot that? I'm the one who got his head bashed in saving your ass, remember?"

"Deeks," Kensi said as she reached him and put a hand on his chest.

Deeks tried to turn away from them both, but she wouldn't let him and he hung his head and closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his mouth.

"I remember, Deeks," Callen said gently.

"You were right," Deeks said huskily as he dropped back down on the couch.

"About what?" Callen asked.

"I shouldn't have charged into that firefight," he answered as he rubbed his beard absently. "I left Ruthie alone, Callen and I should never have done that. I put her in danger, man. I made a mistake and put another kid in danger. If we'd been killed she would have been all alone out there at the mercy of those murdering bastards."

"Deeks, don't do this," Callen said. "Don't get down on yourself. You followed your instincts and made a quick decision and I'm alive because of it."

"Yeah, there's that," huffing out a quick laugh.

Kensi sat down beside him and reached for his hand, longing to comfort him as he tormented himself with doubt. Callen gripped his shoulder and then sat on the table facing him.

"What if I can't do this, G?" Deeks whispered. "What if I'm not ready? If I make a bad decision, it could cost Ruthie her life."

"We make split second decisions in the field all the time, Deeks," Kensi said softly. "All three of you are alive. I say that's a successful outcome."

"Kensi's right," Callen said. "All three of us walked away. Maybe we got lucky, but Ruthie's home in bed and you and I are still standing. Well, I am anyway. You on the other hand should be lying down. The whole side of your face is starting to bruise."

"Kensi can kiss it and make it better," he said with a slow grin.

"Okay, that's my cue to leave," Callen said as he slapped Deeks on the shoulder and rose to leave. "Don't doubt yourself, Deeks. You did good out there."

"I promised Ruthie I'd be coming with her to Burkes' house," Deeks said as he slumped back against the sofa. "Am I still her bodyguard?"

"She's crazy about you, Deeks," Callen smirked. "She wouldn't want anyone else and neither would I."

"Thanks, G," he said, a flicker of a smile briefly lighting his face.

"Kensi, make sure he gets some sleep," Callen said as he headed for the door. "I'll be back to take you over to Burkes' place later tonight."

When he was gone, Deeks closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa, letting his breath out slowly. Kensi inched closer to him, overwhelmed by the need to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin. She reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb as her hand rested at the base of his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. She had missed him the last few days, not happy at all to be separated from him. When she'd found out he'd been hurt, she had wanted to come to him, needing desperately to make sure he was okay, but Hetty had told her to stay with the older Walter's girl in the alternate safe house until they could get a handle on things. She was surprised when Hetty called to ask her to come to the boat shed and sit with him as he slept and to monitor his concussion. The hint of worry in Hetty's voice reminding her how nervous she was herself about Deeks being back in the field.

"I missed you," he said softly, cracking open one eye to look over at her.

"Obviously. Look at you," she said sternly.

"Think Hetty and the techie twins are watching us?" he asked as he turned his head to stare at her, his blue eyes soft as his tongue wet the smile on his lips.

"Deeks," she warned as he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her closer.

"Can't a guy get a hug when he needs one?" Deeks asked, his face taking on that boyish look that always made her insides melt.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," she laughed, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

He pulled her even closer then, his mouth suddenly on hers, warm and sensuous as his hand moved up under her shirt, making her shiver with anticipation. He broke their kiss briefly, his blue eyes searching her face until they settled on her lips.

"Told you I missed you," he whispered, the warmth of his breath tickling the tip of her nose.

"Mr. Deeks," Hetty's voice filled the room, jolting them apart and causing Deeks to utter a grunt as a sudden stab of pain pulsed through his head.

"Miss Blye, you have a very up close and personal way of monitoring Mr. Deeks' concussion," she continued. "However, I think it might be best if you let him get some sleep, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kensi said, getting up from the couch and straightening her shirt.

"Anybody ever tell you you're a spoil sport, Hetty?" Deeks asked with a smile as he looked over to see her face filling the screen.

"There's a time and a place for that kind of sport Mr. Deeks," Hetty replied. "And this is neither. Now get some rest or I'll be forced to send Mr. Hanna to take Miss Blye's place. Now, who would you rather wake up to every couple of hours?"

"You really know how to play dirty, Hetty," he answered as he stretched out on the couch.

"How do you think I got to be where I am, Mr. Deeks?" she said as the screen went black.

...

...


	7. Chapter 7

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 7_

...

Callen had previously met with Paul Walters three times, and in every one of those meetings the man had kept himself rigidly under control, his answers clipped and short and his manner decidedly reticent. Even when telling them about the death of his father, he had managed not to break down, but had rather stoically recounted the events. The only sign of distress had been the constant wringing of his hands. So, seeing the state he was in today was disconcerting and revealing at the same time. His short, dark hair was disheveled, his hands so tightly clasped together that his knuckles were white and the usual look of indifference in his deep brown eyes was gone, replaced by near panic and fear.

"Sandra called, but I want assurances from you that Ruthie is alright," he said breathlessly. "Well, is my daughter okay? Was she hurt in any way?"

The words rushed out of the man as he stood in the middle of the small, austere conference room at the research center.

"She's fine, Mr. Walters," Callen said softly as he took his arm and led him over to a chair and forced him to sit. "Agent Deeks got her out of the house before they could get to her."

"She must have been scared to death," he said as he stared unblinking at the far wall.

"Deeks said she was very brave," Callen said, pouring him a glass of water from the carafe on the table.

"She's an amazing little girl," he said proudly. "My father was her favorite though and she was his."

Callen noticed a trace of sadness in his voice and remembered how Ruthie had yelled at him before running away when she'd found out her grandfather had died.

"Sandra said a man was killed," he said, looking across at Callen, his eyes wide.

"Three, actually," Callen said quietly. "One at the house and two others in a firefight during the rescue."

"Rescued from where?" he asked as he shakily put down the glass of water.

"Deeks took her into one of the arroyos behind the house," he answered.

"Is he okay?" Walters asked, his concern for Deeks surprising Callen.

"He has a concussion, but he'll be fine," Callen said. "Thanks for asking."

"I'm so sorry for the loss of those men," he said wearily. "To think that my research cost men their lives is just devastating. The research project I'm working on is being developed to save lives. I don't understand killing to obtain it."

"Killing is always hard to understand, but sometimes necessary," Callen replied.

"My father's life certainly wasn't worth it, Agent Callen."

"He thought yours was."

"If I had come to NCIS first, he would still be alive," he said with anguish "I don't know how to live with that. Now there are three more men dead because of me."

"They gave their lives to protect your daughter," Callen said kindly. "They did what they were trained to do. Don't take on guilt that isn't yours."

The two men became suddenly silent at the turn in the conversation. Callen understood what a hard burden it was to know that men had died to protect you and the people you care about, but it was new to Paul Walters and his opinion of the man began to change. Callen was intimately familiar with death and had come to terms with it a long time ago. He took lives without really thinking about it anymore, it was just part of the job and he now felt lesser for it as he watched Walters try to shoulder that untenable weight and the deep feeling of guilt that went with it.

"I wanted to come and be with Ruthie this morning, but Hetty said no," he said, finally sagging limply in the chair.

"We couldn't risk it," Callen said.

Walters nodded absently and Callen wondered how hard he should press the man about Preston Burke, seeing how distraught he was. He also knew they needed answers quickly, so decided to be blunt.

"Did your wife tell you they were going to stay with Preston Burke?"

"No." The stunned look on the man's face told him the couple was keeping secrets.

"That seems to surprise you," Callen said.

"A little, but it shouldn't," he said sadly. "And you're probably wondering why."

"Yeah, I am," he answered. "He's in the middle of this now and I need to know more about him than what I can find on his corporate website."

The man looked at him, resignation on his face and then he took a deep breath and began to talk.

"Preston's a bit of a prick," he started. "But Sandra never saw that. They were sort of a couple when we first met in college. I earned extra money hiring myself out as a tutor and Preston needed help in one of his classes. After a couple of sessions, Sandra joined us and we all started going out together socially. Sandra only had eyes for Preston, but that was too confining for him. When she caught him with another girl, she came crying to me. After that we started seeing each other and that barely fazed Preston."

"What do you mean?"

"Preston grew up with a sense of entitlement," Walters replied. "He expected things to go his way and when Sandra broke up with him he was pissed, but not for long. He needed the adoration so he simply replaced her. I think that hurt Sandra, but it drew the two of us closer."

"Why did he choose a college so far from home?" Callen wondered.

"His family back east was filthy rich and controlling, which is why he decided to come and study law in LA. He wanted the freedom to do what he wanted, when he wanted with nobody telling him otherwise, and with the annuity he was getting from his mother, he didn't have to worry about funds."

"Went a little wild, did he?" Callen asked knowingly.

"I don't know how he even managed to get a law degree," Paul Walters said with a sharp laugh. "He was generous with his money though, throwing it around like it meant nothing and I think that impressed Sandra. She was there on a scholarship and her parents weren't very well off, and didn't help her very much. She liked getting wild with Preston, driving down to Mexico in that sports car of his and loving all the presents he bought her. Hell, he bought me a Rolex for a graduation present and just laughed when I told him I couldn't accept it. Money was and is power to Preston and he loves power."

"I was under the impression you two were close friends," Callen said, confused by the undercurrent of bitterness in Walters' tone.

"Preston can be fun when he wants to be," Walters said. "And there were times this past year when blowing off steam with him was just what I needed. He never lets me pay for anything and it was nice not to have to be the answer man like I am at work."

"Why is he in Los Angeles?"

Paul Walters began to wring his hands again and stared at them intensely, but said nothing.

"Mr. Walters?"

The man seemed to deflate in front of him, reaching for the glass of water and drinking a few sips before setting it down and staring at it. When he spoke, his voice sounded hollow and simmered with barely concealed anger.

"After college, Preston went back to New York and started working for his father," he said. "We didn't keep in touch, at least I didn't. Listen, do you really need to hear this? I mean, we are entitled to some privacy, aren't we?"

"I need to protect you and your family and your research," Callen said stridently. "If Preston Burke is involved in threatening your family in order to get your research, I need to know."

"What? No. That's ridiculous," he said adamantly. "Why would he want my research? He's a millionaire and besides, he would never hurt Sandra and he would definitely never put Ruthie in danger."

"You seem awfully sure about that," Callen said. "Why?"

Paul Walters stood and walked slowly around the table, his hands finally at rest. He stopped and looked solemnly at Callen, finally shutting his eyes and sighing deeply.

"Because Ruthie is his daughter."

Callen didn't say anything; in fact he wasn't sure he would know what to say if he could speak. He had not seen this coming and it changed everything. What he and Deeks had seen as sinister was nothing more than a man's concern for his daughter. They may not like the guy, but Burke didn't fit the profile of a man looking to steal government secrets or one to threaten his own daughter to get them.

"How long has he known?" Callen asked gently.

"He came out last year to open a west coast office," Walters told him. "We had him over for dinner and when he met Ruthie I think he knew somehow. He and my wife had an affair ten years ago, when we were having problems, but then he broke it off and she came back to me. When Ruthie was born, I tried to convince myself that she was mine, but she looks so much like him and she has his same willful spirit and I finally confronted my wife about it. Sandra never told Preston and I've raised her as my own. She's my little girl Agent Callen, and I love her."

"Not that it's any of my business, but are you sure he knows Ruthie is his?" Callen couldn't help but ask.

"Sandra thought he had the right to know, so she told him about four months ago," he said sadly. "I've been working very long hours on my research, so they had time to reconnect. I think she's still in love with him."

"Does Ruthie know?"

"Sandra promised not to tell her."

Both men felt drained after their conversation and Callen simply shook the man's hand and thanked him for his honesty and watched him walk out of the room. Then he pulled his phone and called Hetty.

...

...

"You don't have very many trees," Ruthie said as she stared out over the swimming pool and the vast lawn behind Preston Burkes' mansion.

"Nonsense. There's an acre of garden with plenty of trees," Burke said.

"Those little things?" Ruthie snorted out a disdainful breath. "You can't climb those kinda trees."

"You're a young lady," he said firmly. "You shouldn't be climbing trees. Besides, there are plenty of toys and dolls in your room for you to play with. I got them just for you."

"Why?" she asked, turning to stare at him.

"Ruthie, you're being rude. Please thank Preston for the gifts," her mother quickly demanded.

"Thank you," she said absently. "How long do we have to stay here?"

"Until it's safe to go home," her mother replied.

"Come with me, Ruthie and I'll show you your room," Preston Burke said, holding out his hand.

She didn't take his hand, just continued to stare at him as she chewed her bottom lip. Burke sighed and dropped his hand before turning and ushering her mother under the pergola and back into the house. Ruthie dragged her feet as she slowly followed. She didn't like the house. It was too big and all the furniture was big too and everything was white and she'd already been yelled at for getting dirt on the white sofa in the living room. She didn't like the men who worked there either. They wore suits and never smiled at her.

She slowly climbed the massive staircase to the second floor, listening half heartedly to her mother as she laughed at whatever Mr. Burke was saying. She didn't like him either. He didn't seem very friendly, and he was always correcting her and telling her what to do and she didn't like that. She missed Deeks and wondered when he would get here so she'd have someone to talk to. He'd promised to come and he wouldn't break a promise.

"What do you think, Ruthie?" Mr. Burke said as he spread his arms wide inside a large room decorated in pale pink and green with fairies on the wallpaper. The four-poster bed was painted white and the coverlet was pale pink with frills all around the edges, but she could barely see it under all the stuffed toys and dolls that were piled on top. She walked listlessly around the room and stopped to look out the three large windows with a view over the hills to the ocean beyond. She suddenly missed her Pawpaw and started to cry.

"I wanna go home," she said as tears began to stream down her face. She turned to send a pleading look to her mother who quickly apologized to Mr. Burke. He looked upset, but she didn't care. She didn't want to be here and she didn't want all those stupid dolls.

"She's tired Preston," her mother said.

"Yes, of course," he said and walked out of the room.

Her mother began clearing the bed; talking to her about how beautiful it was here and what a gorgeous room this was and how much fun she was going to have while she was here. Her mother finally stopped talking and helped her into a fresh nightgown and then into bed, tucking the pink blankets around her and wiping the tears gently from her face.

"He wants to be your friend, Ruthie," her mother said softly. "Please be nice to him."

"When's Deeks coming?" she asked, ignoring her mother's comments entirely.

"I'm not sure, honey," she answered.

"Where's he gonna sleep?" she asked.

"He'll be staying in the pool house," Mr. Burke said from the doorway. "There's no need for him to be in the main house."

"Are you sure Preston?" Her mother asked nervously. "NCIS might not like that."

"I have security personnel close by," he said. "They are the best at what they do."

"Deeks used to sit in my room at Pawpaw's until I went to sleep," Ruthie said, her voice wavering a little as she pleaded her case. "So I wouldn't be scared."

"You have nothing to be afraid of here," Burke said brusquely. "Agent Deeks is not in charge here. I am. Now get some sleep and your mother will come and get you for dinner."

Her mother patted her arm gently and then left with Mr. Burke. She scrunched down under the stiff new sheets and shivered a little as she tried to get comfortable. She closed her eyes, but that only brought back memories of being in the hideout and listening to the sounds of gunfire across the creek. She wondered if Deeks was feeling better and she hugged herself tightly, remembering how scared she was when she saw all the blood on his face. Unable to sleep, she sat up and looked around the room for the small suitcase she had packed, finally seeing it under the white desk in the corner. She jumped out of bed and quickly put it on the window seat, scattering the plush toys and ugly dolls to make room. Underneath her clothes was the only doll she ever played with, Wonder Woman. She smiled, remembering when she had shown it to Deeks. He had laughed and told her it was one of his nicknames for Kensi, which made her love it even more. It was her favorite because her Pawpaw had given it to her for her birthday earlier that year. It was the last thing he'd ever given her. Climbing back into bed, she placed the doll next to her face on the pillow and tried to remember some of the stories he used to tell her as they walked the orchard and eventually she drifted off to sleep.

...

...

"How's the head?" Callen asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Better," he said simply.

"Not gonna throw up in my car, are you?"

"No. I'm saving it until I get to Burke's house," he laughed.

"You haven't said much since I told you," Callen said gently as he glanced at Deeks.

"It's hard to believe," he answered as he stared out at the passing mansions.

"Well, at least we know he's not the one threatening Walters," Callen said as they turned into the entryway to Preston Burke's house.

They stopped in front of a massive set of gates and a small guardhouse, giving their names to the armed attendant, but still being asked to show their badges. When the gates opened, they paused to look up at the sleek, modern white mansion capping the hill before Callen started driving.

"Impressive," Callen said, concerned with how quiet Deeks had become since he'd told him about Preston Burke being Ruthie's father.

"Not hard when you have the kind of money he has," Deeks said sullenly.

"I know you don't like him, but don't let that get in the way, Deeks," Callen said.

"Are you telling me to play nice?"

"Something like that."

"I know how to do my job, Callen," he said sharply.

Callen pulled to a stop in front of the wide marble steps that led to the front door and turned off the engine. He turned to look steadily at Deeks until he raised his head and looked back at him. He could see the hint of pain in his eyes from the headache he knew was still bothering him, but there was sadness there as well.

"Talk to me Deeks."

"This isn't her," he said as he turned to look up at the front of the gleaming facade that oozed money.

"What are you worried about, other than the fact that mercenaries are trying to kidnap her?"

"I don't trust him, G," he answered. "I don't know why, other than the fact that he's a dickhead."

Callen laughed and that got a smile out of Deeks.

"Come on, Agent Deeks. Let's go see the prick in all his glory."

As soon as they got out of the car, two men in light grey suits and obviously packing, walked down the steps to greet them. The two agents glanced silently at each other as the men walked closely behind them. They were ushered up to the wide glass entrance, shimmering in the low sun, where another man in a grey suit opened the door for them and directed them to a small room off the two-story foyer. Preston Burke was waiting for them.

"Gentlemen, would you care for a drink?" he offered as he poured himself one.

"Doesn't really go well with a concussion," Deeks said quietly.

"Of course," he replied lightly before indicating they should sit. "How about you Agent Callen?"

"On duty," he said as both agents settled into white leather chairs.

"Admirable, your dedication," he said smugly as he stood next to an ornate desk that didn't seem to fit the modern decor. "I see you clean up rather well, Agent Deeks."

"My operations manager likes to dress me up whenever she can," he said, flashing him a quick, forced grin.

"Let me set a few ground rules, Agent Deeks," he said, "For one, you will not be staying in the main house."

"That's not gonna happen," Callen said firmly, rising instantly from his chair, Deeks following his lead.

"May I remind you gentlemen, this is my house," Burke said, his eyes hardening as he spoke.

"May I remind you that this is a matter of National security," Callen said. "Agent Deeks is Ruthie's bodyguard and as such, he needs to be near her at all times. Am I being clear?"

"As you may have noticed, I have armed security guards in the house and on the grounds," he replied. "I hardly think your man will make that big of a difference."

"The thing is, we don't know anything about your men," Deeks said. "We don't know their background, we don't know if they have a record, we don't know whether they wear boxers or briefs, so we don't trust them. I'm staying next to Ruthie's room, or she's not staying here."

"I can assure you, all of the people on my staff have been properly vetted," He said, his anger noticeable to both agents.

"Then you won't mind sharing their personnel records with our technical staff," Callen said, with an annoyed smile. "We like to do our own vetting."

"I'll make sure you have everything you need in that regard," Burke said as he poured himself another drink. "I only want what's best for Ruthie."

"So do we," Deeks said.

Preston Burke turned to look at Deeks, his eyes panning up his body until they rested on his face. His expression was calculating and there was a wariness in his eyes that mirrored Deeks own. He continued to stare at Deeks as he slowly finished his drink and Deeks eyes never wavered, their standoff ending only when Burke turned back to place his glass on the sideboard.

"She talked a lot about you on the ride over here," Burke said quietly. "She's quite enamored with you, I'm afraid."

"Does that bother you?" Deeks asked.

"She told us you were once kidnapped," he said as he turned to look at him again, a slight smirk on his face. "Is that true, Agent Deeks? Or were you just trying to impress her with imaginary war stories."

Deeks face became a mask, frozen and unyielding as he struggled to swallow his anger. He felt his right hand tremble and was aware that Callen had taken a step closer to him and that calmed him slightly.

"I was," he managed to say.

"I think that if you want to know all about my people, then I should be shown the same courtesy and be informed all about you," Burke said, his eyes revealing a measure of self-satisfaction.

"This isn't a job interview, Mr. Burke," Callen said strongly. "He doesn't need your approval."

"Doesn't he?" Burke said. "You are forcing me to allow him into my house and to watch over people who are important to me. Don't you think I should know about something that might affect his job performance?"

"He saved Ruthie from those mercenaries last night," Callen said emphatically. "That should be enough for you to know."

"Well, it isn't, Agent Callen," he growled.

"What do you want to know?" Deeks asked.

"Deeks," Callen said, his hand gripping his arm.

"It's okay, G," Deeks said with a soft smile, before looking calmly at Burke. "Go ahead, man. Ask."

"No!" Callen stepped between the two men and faced Deeks. "If you want to tell him what happened, then just do it in your own words. He doesn't have the right to ask you anything."

"I'll accept that," Burke said. "But I would like to know when this event happened."

"This 'event' as you call it, happened at the end of last year," Deeks began, his head pounding as he gathered himself, trying to formulate what to say. He saw the anger lingering in Callen's eyes, but he also saw the support and a strength he could draw on.

He had tried so hard to forget as much of his ordeal as he could, never dwelling on it anymore, not that that prevented him from having nightmares. Now that he was being forced to recall the terror it all rushed forcefully back into his mind and he had no idea where to start or what to share. He didn't want this man to see his weakness, because he knew he would use it against him. That he had learned from Jürgen. This man was a different kind of predator, but he knew deep down he was a predator nonetheless.

He took several deep breaths as he searched through the memories, all still painful and all suddenly fresh. How could he put any of it into words? How could he tell someone the depth of Jürgen's depravity? Just letting that name enter his mind chilled him deeply, and he slowly became aware he was cradling his right hand close to his chest and he let go of a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. He looked up to see Burke watching him, his eyes cold and analytical, but then he realized that the man in front of him paled in comparison to the sick bastard he had faced and survived and he suddenly felt no fear at all and began to talk, keeping just to the essentials.

"A man I testified against at a Congressional hearing lost his powerful position at NCIS and blamed me for it," he said quietly. "He hired a former Stasi agent to kidnap and torture me. I was held for eight days in South Africa until I was rescued by some locals and by Callen and our team. When I was flown back to the States, he managed to get to me and to my family. His intent was to kill me, which he came very close to doing and probably would have if my family hadn't come to my rescue. It took me some time to recover physically, but I have made a full recovery and am back on field duty. So, I promise you, Mr. Burke, there is no way I will allow anyone to take your daughter."

Deeks froze as the word slipped from his mouth and he saw the cautionary look on Callen's face, but it was too late.

"How did you find out Ruthie is my daughter?" Burke asked icily.

"Her father told us," Callen said.

"This is a private matter, and I expect you to keep it that way," Burke said as he brushed past the two agents. "I'll have someone show you to your room, Agent Deeks."

Then he was gone.

"You okay?" Callen asked as he put a comforting hand on Deeks' shoulder.

"Shit!"

"Watch your back, man," Callen said. "Watch your back."

...

...


	8. Chapter 8

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 8_

...

Dropping his go bag on the large bed, he looked quickly around, surprised by the size of the room Burke had provided. He sauntered over to the three windows and was pissed to discover he was envious of the incredible view that stretched out to the ocean. The sun had just slipped below the horizon and its soft glow still tinted the scattering of clouds as the sea began to darken, turning the color of steel and matching his sullen mood. He hated that he envied the man this view, that he envied him for anything, but what he hated more was that the cold prick was Ruthie's father. Recalling the man's snide comment about Ruthie being enamored of him, he realized that Burke envied him for that and his lips flickered briefly into a slight smile. The asshole was jealous.

Growing up poor had left him with a somewhat "fuck you" attitude toward people with money. He had never really cared about money or sought to accumulate wealth, working only to pay his way toward the goals he had set for himself. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the finer things in life, because he did, but he didn't need those things to be happy. He had always gotten ticked off by the condescending attitude of some of the high priced attorneys he'd dealt with at the DA's office when they'd discovered where he'd grown up. He never tried to hide where he was from, taking a perverse pride in throwing it out there if someone asked just to see how they would react. It was how he discovered whether someone was worth the effort to get to know. He kept the dark trauma of his childhood private and the people who did know the things he had suffered as a child were family or as close to it as he would ever get. That was ammunition he wasn't willing to share with people he didn't know and implicitly trust. Coming from a broken home made him acutely aware of the bombshell that hung over Ruthie's head and he knew how devastating it would be for her if Burke decided to reveal their true relationship.

His anger still simmered over his earlier confrontation with Burke. Being forced to share even the barest details of his time with Jürgen had left him shaken and feeling vulnerable in front of a man he knew would use that information to his advantage. He wasn't intimidated by Burke, but there was definitely tension between them. Revealing that he knew Burke's secret hadn't helped. The cold anger he'd seen in the man's eyes let him know that he was permanently on the guy's shit list. Men like Burke liked having an advantage over their adversaries and he had no doubt they both considered the other an adversary. Even though he had only just met Ruthie, he felt a deep need to protect her and his instincts were telling him that Burke was dangerous for her and he didn't care that he was her real father. Hell, if anyone knew how dangerous a real father could be, it was him. Callen had cautioned him before leaving, reminding him that he was just a bodyguard on assignment and warning him not to let his emotions rule his head, but now he was afraid that advice had come too late.

He watched the lights sprinkle on across the city as the sky deepened and he suddenly felt very tired, his head starting to thunder with pain once again. He turned to rummage through his bag, taking out the pain meds Kensi had gotten for him. Seeing her that morning had pulled him out of his morose mood, but now, as his head pulsed, he wished she were here to take his mind off of where he was. He didn't want to be under this man's roof or anywhere near him for that matter, but if Ruthie was here, it was where he needed to be, no matter how uncomfortable the situation was. After downing a couple of pills, he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, examining the darkening bruises on his face and trying to get on top of his increasingly shitty mood. Hearing a soft knock on his door, he was grateful for the distraction.

"I thought you might be hungry," Sandra Walters said, holding out a tray of sandwiches and a crystal glass filled with sparkling water and a slice of chocolate cake. To say he was totally surprised would have been a definite understatement.

"You didn't have to do this," he said, stumbling over his words.

"You've already eaten then?" she asked, obviously embarrassed.

"No, but...

"Then please, it's the least I can do after how I treated you this morning," she said, pleading with her eyes and causing him to take the tray. A low growl from his stomach made them both laugh, easing the awkwardness between them.

He could feel her eyes on him as he set the tray on the glass table in front of the small couch in the sitting area. She walked tentatively into the room and looked around and he wasn't quite sure what to say. She was an attractive woman, maybe five or six years older than he was, with straight, warm brown hair that curved under just above her shoulders, a scattering of freckles across her small nose, and large brown eyes that nervously scanned the room. Ever so often she chewed lightly on her bottom lip, reminding him of Ruthie, and he wondered why she had come.

"Please, sit," he finally said, indicating the couch as he settled into a white, low slung chair.

"I hope you like turkey," she said shyly. "I think the chef used aioli on it, so it should be good."

"He has his own chef?" Deeks asked as he took a bite out of the delicious looking sandwich.

"Of course. Only the best will do for Preston," she said, laughing lightly. "You should see the kitchen. I don't think I could find anything in there. It's so big. He's always had exquisite taste. You'll have to get him to show you his wine collection."

"Mrs. Walters, I'm not your typical house guest," he said quietly. "Is there something you want to say?"

"My husband called and told me that two other men had been killed trying to protect my daughter," she said.

"Yeah, unfortunately that's true," he said, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"How badly are you hurt, Agent Deeks?" She asked, leaning slightly forward and reaching out to rest her hand on his arm. "I mean, you really do look awful."

"That bad, huh?" He smiled and she smiled in return. "It's just a concussion. I'll be fine."

"I want to apologize for how I acted this morning," she said. "You risked your life and all I did was yell at you."

"You were in shock, Mrs. Walters," he said gently.

"Still, that's no excuse. I could see you were injured," she said quietly, gently squeezing his arm before releasing him. "Please, eat. You need your strength, and the cake is quite delicious."

"You sound like my operations manager," he said, and picked up the sandwich. He ate in silence, unsure why she was still there, but he was very hungry and the cake was amazingly good.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" she said as he ate his cake. "Where are you from? Did you grow up around here?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You saved my daughter's life and I don't know anything about you," she answered. "Please. I'd like to know."

"I grew up in Reseda," he said, matter-of-factly. "Worked my way through college and law school, passed the bar, worked for the DA and then went to the police academy and became a cop."

"I would never have guessed you were an attorney," she said softly, "How did you become a federal agent?"

"I started out as a liaison from LAPD," he answered briefly, uncomfortable with all the personal questions. "Anything else? I'm getting a little tired."

She stood quickly then and moved toward the door, pausing before turning to ask another question.

"You didn't happen to go to UCLA did you?" she said with a wide smile as she took a step toward him.

"Pepperdine," he said, his suspicions growing the longer she stood there smiling softly at him.

"You seem angry with me," she said, pursing her lips into a small pout.

"I have a question for you," he said solemnly. "Why did you lie to me about how well you knew Burke?"

"I never lied to you," she said sharply. "I told you we were close friends from college."

"You also told me you didn't know what he did for a living," he said. "And that's not exactly true, is it?"

"I didn't think it was important," she said, and stepped quickly toward the door.

"Everything is important in a case like this," he said.

"But, not everything is your business," she said angrily as she walked out of the room.

Deeks watched her walk down the hall and he wondered what she had really wanted. He probably shouldn't have called her on her lie, but her personal questions had put him on guard and the way she had approached him and touched him, made him wonder what the hell she was playing at. He knew when a woman was coming on to him, but in this case, he couldn't figure out why and it had surprised the hell out of him. In the several days he had been at the farm, she had never done anything like this, so why now?

"You're losing it, buddy," he chided himself. "That guy must have hit me harder than I thought."

He shook his head, regretting it instantly as the room spun, and he placed his hand against the wall to steady himself. Exhaustion was slowly seeping into his muscles, but he needed to check on Ruthie, so he righted himself and headed next door to her room. She had been asleep since he'd gotten here and he hadn't seen her yet. Opening her door, he peeked in, taking in the dinner tray on the small pink table before walking inside. He smiled as he looked at the pile of stuffed toys and dolls unceremoniously dumped on the floor by the window seat, evidence that Preston Burke had spared no expense in trying to impress his daughter. When he turned to look at Ruthie, she was watching him with sleepy eyes.

"Hi sweetie," he said gently. "Feeling better?"

"Where have you been?" she asked, frowning slightly. "I've been waiting."

"Sorry I'm so late, but my boss made me take a nap," he said with a grin as he sat down on the end of the bed.

"Cause of your head?" she asked, quickly sitting up.

"Yeah."

"You look like a raccoon," she said with a giggle, but then quickly turned serious. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm fine, sweetie," he answered. "Hey, pretty nice room you got here."

"I don't like pink," she said, making a disgusted face.

"Who you got there?" Deeks asked, pointing at the doll next to her.

"Wonder Woman," she said, her face suddenly bright with enthusiasm. "Wanna hold her?"

Deeks laughed as she handed him the small, slender doll and he actually felt himself blush as intimate images of Kensi flashed though his mind.

"Kensi says hi," he told her as he handed the doll back.

"Did you tell her about me?" Ruthie asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

"I did. She wants to meet you," he said. "You two are a lot alike. She leaves stuff scattered all over the place just like you."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Those are pretty nice toys on the floor over there," he said with a crooked grin.

"I don't like 'em," she said grumpily.

"I think Ruthie needs her sleep, Agent Deeks," Preston Burke said abruptly from the doorway, his hooded eyes and rigid jaw making it obvious that he'd heard Ruthie's comment.

He noticed Ruthie's face take on a rebellious look as he stood up and she quickly scooted down under the covers and held her doll close, her eyes big as she watched them. He smiled gently at her before turning to face Burke, keeping his features under tight control so it showed none of the turmoil he was actually feeling. He caught Burke looking over at the unwanted toys and just for a moment he felt sorry for him, but that didn't last long.

"Ruthie, pick up those toys before you go to sleep," he said, his voice low and emotionless. "I expect you to keep a tidy room. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," she said thinly.

"Agent Deeks, a word," he said boldly as he turned and left.

Deeks glanced back at Ruthie and mimed an exaggerated grimace of fright, making her giggle. Then he waved goodbye and followed Burke. He found him waiting at the top of the stairs along with one of the security guards and he took a deep breath as he followed them silently down the stairs and into the expansive living room. Two other security guards were in the room and fell in behind Deeks as he trailed Burke through the house and out onto the back patio overlooking the pool. He grew sullen as the men escorted him out, feeling closed in and under guard and adding weight to his already shitty attitude. Burke walked to a sleek sideboard and calmly poured himself a drink before turning to lower himself into the only chair there, slowly sipping at his bourbon as he stared stonily at him.

"If this is going to be a pissing contest, I'd just as soon skip it," Deeks said wearily.

"I didn't bring you out here to compare dicks," Burke said coldly. "I really don't think you'd win that one."

"Pays to have confidence in your own assets," Deeks laughed. "I know I do in mine."

"The man to my left is Malcolm Webb. He's in charge of my security," Burke said flatly. "The six man team answers to him and I expect you to check with him before any decisions are made regarding Ruthie's security."

"I'll be sure and keep him updated on any information he'll need," Deeks said quietly as he eyed the man.

"The two men behind you have been assigned to her and to you," Burke told him as he downed his drink. "They'll familiarize you with our security system."

"Do they have names?" Deeks asked lightly.

"I'm sure they do," he answered. "And, since you were once a detective, I'll leave that for you to discover."

"Been checking up on me, Mr. Burke?" Deeks asked quietly.

"He asked me to do that," Webb said.

"And just what are you interested in finding out about me, Mr. Webb?" Deeks' voice came out low and hard.

"Everything I can," he replied.

"Yeah? Well, let me help you with that. I wear boxers and I'm a fantastic surfer," Deeks said.

"One question, Agent Deeks," Burke said as he stood and took a step closer. "I noticed you cradling your right hand to your chest as you told me about your kidnapping. Just how badly were you tortured that you are still reacting like that when you speak about it over half a year later?"

Deeks' whole body became still except for his hands, which formed slowly into fists. There was a sudden roaring in his ears as he fought against the urge to hit the man. He had come to think of those terrifying days with Jürgen as private, something so intimate between the two of them that he was loathed to talk about it anymore, even with the people he loved. Now this colossal asshole was trying to claw his way inside those cruel memories, searching for an advantage, not aware or not caring how personal it truly was.

Slowly gaining back some control, he closed his eyes briefly before turning and walking silently back toward the house.

"I'm not finished talking to you, Agent Deeks," Burke called loudly after him.

"Yes you are," he replied as he entered the house and walked all the way through and out the front door.

Now he understood why Sandra Walters had come to his room. She was fishing for personal information to give to Burke. He pulled out his phone as he walked out into the middle of the expansive front lawn and quickly called Callen.

"Everything okay?" Callen immediately asked.

He was still so angry he couldn't speak and just stood there holding the phone to his ear.

"Deeks? What happened? You okay? Talk to me."

"Burke asked how badly I was tortured," he answered, his voice betraying how deeply incensed he was. "And I had a hard time not hitting him."

"Sonofabitch! He's baiting you, Deeks," Callen said tightly. "Don't react. It's what he wants you to do."

"I know. He's having his head of security check me out," Deeks said.

"Turnabout's fair play," Callen spit out. "I'll have Eric dig deeper on him."

"Has he hacked their security system yet?"

"He say's it's a closed system," Callen said. "But I'll drop by tomorrow and bring you some bugs."

"Sandra Walters came to talk and asked a lot of personal questions," Deeks said. "Don't these people know we're on their side?"

"They do seem a little paranoid," Callen answered. "She's definitely being manipulated by Burke."

"But why do they need to know so much about me?" Deeks asked. "I'm just here to protect Ruthie."

"Control. He's trying to figure out a way to control you." Callen said. "Burke has to be the big dog."

"You do know what an incredible straight line that is, don't you?" Deeks said, relaxing slightly as he talked.

"Well, verbally sparring with this guy is better than punching him," Callen said seriously.

"This guy's the biggest dick I've ever met," Deeks said. "But, he is trying to protect Ruthie, so I'll find a way to put up with him."

"Stay focused on that," Callen said. "And I'll see you in the morning."

"Better get here early, before Burke has me dumped in the pool or dressed up in a grey suit and tie," Deeks replied.

"Hetty might like a picture of that," Callen laughed.

"Which one? Me treading water or nattily dressed up?"

"I'll ask her," Callen said. "Now go get some rest."

"Okay. Thanks, man," he said softly.

"For what?"

"Talking me down."

"Anytime, kid."

"See you tomorrow, old man."

"Hey!" Callen barked, but Deeks only laughed and ended the call.

...

...

"What's up Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked.

The words that poured out of her senior agent were vehement and explosive as he recounted his conversation with Deeks. To say he was angry would be an understatement of the highest order. He was in full protective mode and his choice words for Preston Burke reminded her of the time he had come back from the first assignment she had ever given him. On that occasion he had been the one being manipulated by words that hit too close to home, and he hadn't known how to handle it. Instead, he had lashed out at the man with his fists, barely able to pull himself back from the edge of rage and she had suspended him for it. He was raw back then, exceptional at undercover work, but still vulnerable about his childhood, not unlike Mr. Deeks. Why it had taken so long for the two men to connect was something she still didn't understand. Maybe they were too much alike in their experiences and didn't like looking too deeply into that mirror image of themselves and their past.

She remembered the look on Callen's face that morning so long ago in Washington, when Deeks had shared his experience after he'd shot his father. She'd seen the anguish and the sympathy deep in his eyes when Deeks told of being assaulted by older boys at the Children's Home where he'd been taken. Afterwards, he had found it difficult to even speak, but he had encouraged Deeks, letting him know they were all on his side and held nothing against him. She could tell that Deeks hadn't expected that from him, and was genuinely surprised and deeply touched by Callen's support. She believed that morning had truly been the beginning of the two men's growing relationship. Listening to him now, ranting about the hurtful words Preston Burke had used against Deeks, reminded her how far they had come and how close they now were.

"Hetty? Did you hear what I said?" Callen asked, breaking through her thoughts. "The guy is pushing him to open up about his kidnapping."

"It would be difficult not to hear you, Mr. Callen, since you've been shouting in my ear for the past five minutes."

"Sorry, but I'm pissed."

"So am I, Mr. Callen," she said. "But, Mr. Deeks is going to have to deal with it. You can't be there to shield him and I don't think he would want you to. It's part of the healing process for him."

"You're right, but who the hell does this guy think he is, going after a federal agent like this?"

"You know exactly what kind of man he is Mr. Callen," she replied. "The dominating kind. The kind who has been given everything in life, but still needs the constant subservience of others in order to feel powerful. He's addicted to power, Mr. Callen and like any addict, he can't live without it."

"I feel as if we've thrown Deeks into the shark tank," Callen finally said.

"Mr. Deeks is a survivor," Hetty said softly. "He knows exactly what kind of man he's dealing with. His father tried to dominate him through physical abuse, but he finally fought back and survived. Jürgen tried as well, in a much more brutal fashion, and he survived even that monster, Mr. Callen. He survived and I believe it has made him stronger. Nothing Burke will throw at him can compare to what he's already experienced. Don't underestimate him."

"He's constantly surprised me ever since you recruited him," Callen said. "But for some reason, I'm more afraid for him now than ever."

"Because you care more deeply for him now, Mr. Callen," she said gently. "And he knows that and that knowledge will make him stronger as well."

"Whatever Burke asked shook him, Hetty."

"He hasn't talked about Jürgen to any of us in a long time," Hetty said thoughtfully. "He's trying to bury it all and that's not necessarily healthy. Burke's arrogance might just force it all out in the open, so he can see he has nothing to be ashamed of."

"You think he's ashamed of what Jürgen did to him?" Callen asked softly.

"Yes, I do, Mr. Callen, and so does Nate," she replied. "He hasn't shared everything that brutal bastard did to him, of that I'm certain."

"You think he'd share that with Preston Burke?" he said, obviously dubious.

"No, of course not. He would never do that, but it might get him to open up to you about it."

"Why me? Why not Kensi or Nate, or you for that matter?"

"Because of your newfound bond, Mr. Callen," she said. "It was cemented in the middle of this op and you were the one he just called to voice his anger and frustration. He wants to confide in you, because he knows you care for him now and that's important to him."

"This is all new ground for me, Hetty," he said. "What if I say the wrong thing?"

"If it's one thing I know about you, Mr. Callen, is that you have never lacked confidence."

"Still, you know I'm not good at this kind of stuff," he said doubtfully.

"We're never too old to learn a new skill." And he heard her laugh lightly.

"Deeks called me an old man and now you too?"

"Age is just a state of mind, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "I myself have never felt sharper and I'm pretty sure you are at the top of your game, so I have no worries that you will find a way to help Mr. Deeks and learn how to listen at the same time."

"I listen," he said, sounding offended.

"Of course you do, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "But listen to Mr. Deeks with more than just your mind. He's still vulnerable and he'll need your counsel."

After their conversation ended, she sat down with a glass of scotch and reflected on Callen's doubts about his ability to deal with "this kind of stuff", as he called it. He always guarded his heart carefully, but now he had opened it to Deeks and she hoped he wasn't having second thoughts. If he decided to distance himself from Deeks instead of dealing with the emotions that might come out, she was afraid it would do damage to both men, and they had both been damaged enough in their lives. She wasn't about to let a man like Preston Burke upset the delicate recovery of a young man who had suffered so much in the past year. If she had to become involved, she would and in the process she would teach Preston Burke a thing or two about the use of power.

...

...


	9. Chapter 9

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 9_

...

He woke slowly, groaning softly as he stretched out the muscles in his arms and back, yawning at the new day. But then he sensed a presence, suddenly aware there was someone in the room and he opened his eyes as he gathered himself, his muscles taut, pulling against his worn tee shirt as he prepared himself to deal with the intruder.

"Your nose gets all crinkly when you sleep," Ruthie said brightly, staring at him as she leaned against the side of the bed.

"Do you always go around scaring people this early in the morning, sweetie pie?" Deeks let out the breath he was holding and rubbed his eyes, his body relaxing as she giggled her reply.

"Get up. I'm hungry," she said. "Don't you smell breakfast?"

"You go ahead, sweetie," he said as he propped himself up on one elbow. "I'll catch something later."

He was fairly certain he wouldn't be welcomed at the family breakfast table and he didn't want to get into it with Burke in front of Ruthie.

"No, it's okay. I'll wait for you," she said. "I don't want to go by myself. I don't like that man."

He saw a hint of trepidation in her eyes as she stared earnestly at him. How could he say no to her? It didn't look as if she'd even combed her hair and it stood out wildly all over her head, but who was he to talk. She was wearing red shorts and a tee shirt with a picture of Princess Merida on it from the "Brave" movie and it seemed so right for her that he smiled. She always made him smile.

"Can you give me a few minutes, princess?" he asked, poking her lightly in the stomach.

"Okay, but hurry. I'm really hungry and I think they're having pancakes," she said quickly over her shoulder as she wandered out.

He was a pushover when it came to her. He didn't want to face Burke this early in the morning or Ruthie's mother, but he couldn't let her go down there alone if she didn't want to, so he quickly jumped in the shower, which was bigger than his entire bathroom and tried very hard not to be envious. The steaming water eased some of the tightness in his bruised muscles and dulled the constant headache that remained in spite of the pain meds. He started blowing out his breath as if he were going into a firefight, and in a sense he was, only this one would be all verbal. Conversations with Burke were like making your way through a minefield and any held in Ruthie's presence would definitely put him at a disadvantage. He would have to cool it with the wiseass remarks, which were usually how he masked his anger, but that wasn't an option this morning, not with Ruthie at the table. He'd have to be very careful about what he said and how he said it. He only hoped Preston Burke would do the same.

After towel drying his hair, he sorted through his meager wardrobe and pulled on a pair of khakis and a white shirt, leaving the collar open, wanting to look somewhat professional when he faced Burke. After putting on his shoes, he began rolling up his sleeves as he made his way to the door, slipping his gun behind his back and pocketed his badge before opening the door to find Ruthie sitting on the floor in the hall, waiting for him.

"So what are you gonna have on your pancakes?" His outward attitude loose and easygoing.

"Syrup. What else?" she asked, her face open and curious.

"How about berries?" He said as she took his hand and tugged him toward the stairs. "You could have blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, huckleberries or my all time favorite, chuckleberries."

"There's no such thing as a chuckleberry, you goof," she said seriously as they made their way down the stairs.

"You sure? Cause I'm pretty sure I saw them at the market last week," he said with a crooked grin and a raised eyebrow.

"You really are silly sometimes," she said with a giggle.

"That's just what Kensi says," he told her as they walked into the dining room.

Preston Burke lifted his eyes from the newspaper and glared at him with complete disdain. Sandra Walters looked nervously over at him, obviously trying to judge how she should respond.

"I believe your breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen, Agent Deeks," he said dismissively and returned to reading his paper.

"He's gonna eat with me," Ruthie said stubbornly before Deeks could move.

"Ruthie honey, don't be rude," Sandra Walters said quickly.

"The dining room is for the family, Ruthie," he said firmly. "And, he's not family."

"You're not either," she said defiantly.

Preston Burke looked quickly at Sandra Walters and she leaned forward, pleading with her eyes and Deeks saw Burke nod slightly, before turning to look angrily at Ruthie. Deeks took a step forward, shielding Ruthie slightly, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"It's okay, Ruthie," he said, looking straight at Burke before turning to kneel down in front of her. "I eat in my kitchen all the time. I'll be closer to the food in there and that way I can eat all the pancakes before you get any."

"But, I want to eat with you," she said, whining a little.

"How about we have lunch together out in the garden," he said softly. "I'm sure Mr. Burke wouldn't mind me eating out there with you, would you Mr. Burke?"

He stood up and turned with a questioning look on his face and he could tell Burke was very close to exploding. Getting slammed by a little girl wasn't setting too well with him, Deeks thought, smiling inwardly. He watched the man pull himself back under control and then feign indifference.

"Fine," he said, not bothering to look up. "But now, I think you've interrupted our breakfast for long enough. The kitchen is through that door."

Deeks squeezed Ruthie's shoulder as he walked toward the door indicated, holding his annoyance in check. As he entered the kitchen he heard Ruthie's voice behind him and he couldn't help laughing.

"I want chuckleberries on my pancakes," she said loudly, and he knew it was for his benefit.

"There's no such thing," Burke grumbled.

"How do you know?" Ruthie's lingering voice taking the bad taste right out of his mouth.

He smiled as one of the kitchen staff handed him a plate stacked with incredible looking pancakes topped with strawberries and his stomach rumbled a greeting. The bacon was perfect and the coffee rich and much needed. All in all, he thought the morning confrontation had gone rather well, especially with Ruthie on his side. He took his breakfast out to a small covered patio overlooking the kitchen garden and enjoyed the early warmth of the day as he reflected on the ability of a determined little girl to get under the skin of a man used to complete control.

...

...

Eric was talking to himself when Nell came into Ops and she could tell he was not happy. When he swore softly as she pulled her chair back, she peeked at his screen to see what he was working on.

"You're looking into Deeks' juvenile record?" she asked in surprise.

"Not me, but someone is and they've gotten in pretty deep, too," he answered as he tried to thwart the person's access.

"What's he gotten so far?" She asked.

"He hacked into Child Services' records and got access to Deeks' files," he answered, swearing louder this time as the hacker slipped past him once again.

"This guy's good," he muttered.

"Maybe it's a woman," Nell said flippantly.

"Doesn't matter," Eric said absently. "What does, is that he or she has Deeks' juvenile records regarding his father's shooting."

"I'm calling Hetty," she said quickly.

"Now he's going into the LAPD personnel records," Eric said softly to himself as he feverishly typed. "Not so fast doucharoo. Gothcha!"

"Eric, report please," Hetty said as she came up behind the two techs.

"Someone's accessing multiple files on Deeks from multiple databases," Eric said sharply, but now with a smile. "But I got him. He's working out of an office in Burbank."

"Does he know you found him?" Hetty asked and when he shook his head she turned to Nell. "Send a tactical squad over there immediately, Miss Jones. I want him taken into custody and brought to the boat shed."

"Do you want me to end his access, Hetty?" Eric asked.

"Let's give him enough rope to hang himself, Mr. Beale," she replied. "You can shut him down when the tac squad has their hands on him. Don't spook him. I'd rather have you track down where the information is going and to whom."

"No problemo," he said with a flourish.

"Nell, what have you found on Malcolm Webb?" Hetty asked, the anger thick in her voice.

"Ran a highly regarded security firm in New York, before he was hired by Preston Burke," she said. "Former Army Ranger, two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. He had a brief stint with the FBI, but I'm still waiting for them to release his file. No family that I can find. A real lone wolf, Hetty."

"I've had some experience with those," she replied. "Can you find a link between him and this hacker?"

"You mean other than the fact they work out of the same building?" Eric smiled proudly at both of them.

"Thank you, Mr. Beale," she said quite formally. "As one of my old friends would say, 'you've made my day'. Nell, put in a call to Roger Stinson at the National Security Branch of the FBI. He's quite fond of Mr. Deeks and he'll get you that file on Webb."

"Mr. Callen? Meet me in the boat shed," Hetty spoke into her cell as she walked out. "Mr. Burke's Head of Security just put his foot in it."

...

...

Deeks watched calmly as Preston Burke and Malcolm Webb walked toward him where he sat at a table under a white umbrella next to the pool. Ruthie was swimming easily in the enormous pool, oblivious or just ignoring the oncoming pair. He took a breath, clinched his jaw in anticipation and waited, knowing Burke wouldn't have sought him out if he didn't have a point to make. He had been enjoying his afternoon with Ruthie, checking out the pleasant garden and finding a big tree she could climb at the back edge of the property. She had gone on and on about wanting to go home, asking him why she couldn't over and over. It had taken a lot of convincing, but she finally changed the subject, asking for more stories about Kensi, which he was happy to share. Now, he found himself growing cold as the man approached, wondering what angle the attack would come from, because this would not be a social call.

"Take a walk with me, Agent Deeks. Webb will watch Ruthie," Burke said as he strode past, heading toward a small isolated patio tucked into a grove of small trees some distance above the pool and very private.

Burke had changed out of the three-piece suit he'd been wearing at breakfast and was now somewhat casually dressed in tan slacks and a pale blue silk shirt without a tie. Deeks rose sluggishly from the chair, checking to see that Ruthie was okay. She had a solemn look on her face as she watched him from the edge of the pool, but when he waved to her, she flashed a smile and waved back. He looked steadily at Webb until the man nodded.

"I'm assuming you can swim," he said quietly, his face hard and deadly serious.

"Got a merit badge and everything," the man said snidely.

"And here I thought those were hard to get," he said before turning to follow Burke.

The man barely acknowledged him when he reached the private patio, just sat silently and continued to stare at Ruthie as she swam. The deep cushions on the lounge chairs looked inviting, so he plopped down in one facing the pool, allowing him to watch Ruthie, but not have to look at Burke.

"My father would have hated this place," Burke said. "He was a traditionalist. He loved old brick, French antiques and formal English gardens, but then he came from old money, so it's not surprising. He was all about perpetuating the family name and the family fortune and if his children didn't acquiesce to doing that, then he would show you the error of your ways by cutting off access to everything you loved, needed or craved. He was really quite vicious, my old man, but he taught me everything I needed to know to be successful in this world."

Deeks wasn't sure what to say and remained silent, not sure Burke required a comment.

"I think I bought this place just to spite him," he continued. "He died before I could show it to him."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Deeks said.

"What about your father?" Burke's voice was low as he turned to look at him and Deeks suddenly knew what was coming.

"He must have been quite a bastard for you to shoot him like that," Burke continued. "You were just a kid. Eleven, I believe. You used to get the shit kicked out of you a lot as a child according to the records. Your father must not have thought you were worth much, Agent Deeks, or maybe he just thought you needed to be taught your place."

Deeks got up and turned toward the man, his heart in his throat and his anger hot and very close to being uncontrollable.

"I know a lot about you, Deeks," Burke said with a self-assured smile. "Webb said there's more, but he hasn't gotten it all yet. Some of your less than enamored colleagues at LAPD are more than willing to share some of your less auspicious adventures for a little extra cash, and you know I have plenty of that."

"What the hell's your point, Burke," Deeks gritted out.

"I don't want you anywhere near my daughter," he said. "I have plans for her and you're a bad influence. I don't like you, Deeks. I know where you come from and I know what kind of people you come from. You're nothing but white trash, Deeks, not fit to be in my beautiful house or eat my food, and you're certainly not the kind of person I want around Ruthie. I want you out and with my money and contacts, don't think I can't make that happen."

Deeks' face blanched at the man's brazen words. His body trembled with rage, but he held himself together, not really able to respond as the horror that was his childhood spilled out of the man's mouth. He knew he had to walk away. He knew if he stayed standing in front of him that he would do something he would regret, which he was pretty sure was exactly what Burke wanted. So, he turned abruptly and walked numbly back toward the pool, his mind in a fog.

"I'll find everything there is to find, Deeks," Webb said as he passed the man. "Money's no object for this guy."

Deeks didn't even pause; he simply turned and slugged Webb as hard as he could, feeling the man's cheekbone crack before he fell backwards into the pool. He would have kept walking, but he saw the shocked and frightened look on Ruthie's face and it forced him to come back to himself. He shouldn't have done that in front of her, cursing himself silently, and he couldn't leave her here with these men, so he held his hand out and she quickly scrambled out of the pool and took it and they started toward the house. He could hear Burke shouting after him, but he didn't stop until two of Webb's security men stepped out in front of him and put their hands on his chest.

"Go on up to your room, Ruthie," he said as calmly as he could.

"I don't want to," she said, gripping his hand tightly and looking between him and the two men.

"I need you to do that for me, sweetie," he said, smiling softly at her.

As he tried to persuade her he saw two more men running toward the pool. Burke was standing next to it, ignoring Webb completely as he fought to stay above water.

"He's not gonna be in a good mood when he gets out of that pool," one of the men in front of him offered.

"He told me he could swim," Deeks said, a wide smile now pasted on his face as he pushed Ruthie toward the door.

Ruthie grabbed his hand once again and started tugging on it, her eyes wide, and he knew she was scared.

"Come with me, Deeks," she said, trembling. "Please."

He was suddenly surrounded by four of Webb's men and his smile faded, realizing these guys didn't care if they were scaring a little girl.

"Okay, guys. Just let Ruthie leave and we can talk," he said quietly, but no one responded.

"Call off you men, Webb," he said as the man shoved his way past his guys and stopped in front of him.

"You sonofabitch," Webb said.

"You look a little wet, Malcolm, but I'm sure Mr. Burke will buy you a new suit," Deeks said, unable to stop the escaping smart remark.

"Deeks?" Ruthie said.

"How long you gonna let this go on, Burke? These guys are scaring Ruthie." Deeks said, looking back to see him still standing next to the pool. The man just watched, a small look of triumph in his eyes and Deeks knew he was in trouble.

One of the men behind him pulled his hand free from Ruthie's hold and wrenched his arms up behind his back, making him grunt in pain while the other one took his gun.

"Stop that," Ruthie yelled, but they ignored her.

"Now would be the time to remember that I'm a federal agent," he said, the smile returning for Ruthie's benefit. "And that a little girl is watching."

"You hit me, Deeks," Webb said right in his face. "I'll just tell them I was defending myself and I have plenty of witnesses."

"What the hell is going on?" Paul Walters suddenly pushed his way into the middle of the confrontation and scooped Ruthie up in his arms and she clung to him, burying her head in his neck as tears filled her eyes.

"Are you okay, punkin?" he asked, smoothing back her wet hair.

"They're hurting Deeks, Daddy," she said.

"Stop this right now, Preston," Paul Walters demanded as Burke walked up to join the group.

"You don't know what kind of man he is, Paul," Burke said angrily.

"He's the kind of man that put his life at risk to save my daughter from kidnappers," Walters said firmly. "That's all I need to know. Now call off these jerks and let him go."

"Don't order me around in my own home, Paul," Burke's voice became low and deep as the stare down continued. "Deeks attacked Webb without provocation and he needs to know I won't tolerate that."

Deeks waited for the blow he knew was coming and it was swift and powerful, doubling him over and making him sag almost to his knees. He fought for breath as he prepared for the next one, but it never came as he heard Callen's voice boom out from the doorway. He felt his arms released as members of an NCIS tactical squad shoved the men away from him and he staggered on his feet until Callen grabbed his arm and held him up.

"Malcolm Webb, you're under arrest for assaulting a federal officer and for cyber crimes relating to Agent Deeks," Callen said as a couple of the tac squad cuffed him.

"He's my Head of Security," Burke sputtered.

"Are you claiming responsibility for his actions?" Callen asked.

"Most certainly not," Burke said staunchly as he glared at Webb, who just shook his head in resignation.

"Looks like a dunk in the pool is the least of your worries, man," Deeks said, still breathing hard.

"Fuck you, Deeks," Webb growled. "Bet your little friend Ruthie and her daddy don't know what you did to your own father."

Callen had him by the throat in seconds, shoving him rapidly back toward the house as he whispered words no one caught. The man never got another word out as Gus, the squad leader, took him from Callen and hustled him through the house.

"I insist you assign someone else to guard Ruthie while she's in my house," Burke demanded.

"You don't get to make any decisions regarding Ruthie," Paul Walters said. "I'm sure NCIS can make other arrangements. She'll be staying wherever I'm staying."

Burke blinked at that and Deeks could see him slowly back down, and for a brief second his face took on a feral look, almost immediately replaced by a false smile of acquiescence.

"Really Paul, there's no need for you all to leave," Burke said, trying to placate his old friend. "You know you are welcome here. There's plenty of space and Ruthie already has a lovely room I set up just for her."

There was a glimmer of disbelief and anger in the look Walters shot at Burke, before he glanced at Callen.

"That's up to Agent Callen," he said solemnly.

"This is a well fortified house, with top notch security," Callen said, earning a surprised look from everyone. "We could protect you and your wife and Ruthie here, Paul."

"What about Deeks?" Ruthie asked, sniffling back tears as she looked earnestly at Paul Walters. "Can he stay, Daddy?"

"He stays Preston, or we go," Paul Walters said adamantly.

"As you wish, Paul," Burke replied, his face impassive.

Deeks reached out to pull Callen aside for a private conversation, but his phone rang and he kept eyes on Deeks as he answered.

"It's for you, Mr. Burke," Callen said with a small grin as he handed the phone over to the surprised man.

"Who is this?" Burke barked with annoyance into the phone. "Who?"

"It's Hetty," Callen whispered to Deeks.

Both men began smiling as Burke walked into the house, trying to get a word in as Hetty talked. They could see the wilted look on the man's face as he listened and nodded occasionally as he paced the living room. By the time Hetty had finished his face had taken on a haunted look, but one edged with a dark rage that Deeks found unsettling. He knew the man who had spoken to him so viciously earlier, would not be easily intimidated by anyone, even Hetty.

Preston Burke walked back outside and dismissed his security men before handing Callen back his phone. He mentioned nothing about the phone call and immediately turned to leave.

"Make yourself at home, Paul," he said without even looking at him. "I'll be out for the evening. I have a meeting. My chef will prepare dinner for you and your guests."

With that he walked back inside and went upstairs, his footsteps echoing off the white marble risers.

"You want to show me your room, Ruthie?" Paul Walters asked, setting her on the ground and reaching for her hand.

"It's pink, Daddy," she said, shivering with mimed disgust. "Yuck!"

"Not your favorite color," he said with a laugh. "See you for dinner, gentlemen."

Deeks followed their progress until they were out of sight before turning to Callen as he gave instructions to the remaining members of the tactical squad. When they were gone, Deeks stared evenly at Callen until he acknowledged him.

"Deeks, it's my call," he said, holding up his hands when he saw Deeks' irate face, thinking he was angry about staying at Burke's house.

"Do you know the shit that asshole said to me, Callen?" Deeks roared. "Did you know he had all that personal information about me?"

"Eric discovered someone hacking into your juvenile records this morning," Callen said. "We picked up the hacker and I talked to him in the boat shed. He rolled on Webb and I picked up Paul Walters and Gus's squad and came here. Paul's been anxious to see Ruthie."

"You waited until he hit me, didn't you?" Deeks said with an amazed smile, tilting his head as he turned to walk back to the edge of the pool.

"I thought he might," Callen smirked as he followed him. "But I knew you could take it."

"Thanks a lot, Agent Callen," Deeks said.

"That's Special Agent Callen," he said lightly. "Listen Deeks. I wanted him on more then hiring a hacker to delve into your records. Burke would have had him out before breakfast. Assaulting a federal agent gets him some serious jail time."

"Burke had him do it, you know," Deeks said quietly.

"I know, but he'll deny it and he has the money and the lawyers to keep us at bay for awhile," Callen said.

"He called me white trash, Callen," Deeks said softly. "I've never even heard that term before, but I'm guessing he considered it an insult."

"Someone called me that once," Callen said as he stepped up beside him.

"What'd you say?"

"I kicked him," Callen laughed. "I was eight and had no idea what it meant, but I considered the source."

"What if Burke tells Paul Walters and Ruthie that I shot my father," Deeks murmured.

"We'll deal with it," Callen said softly. "Together and as a team. I imagine Hetty read him the riot act, so I think he'll back off for now."

"If it wasn't for Ruthie, I'd be out of here," Deeks said as he stared out across the pool. "This isn't over between Burke and me."

"Just do your job," Callen said. "You protect Ruthie and we'll protect you."

"You just let a guy hit me, G," Deeks laughed.

"Well, I won't next time."

"Promise?"

"Okay."

...

...


	10. Chapter 10

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 10_

...

Callen kept his eye on Deeks as he gave out duty assignments to the four members of the tactical squad staying on at Burke's mansion. He made sure that the lead agent would monitor Burke's security men and he assigned another to place video surveillance bugs in critical positions all over the estate, inside and out. When he finished his instructions he looked up to see Deeks staring sadly into the pool and the stark memory of the last time Deeks had been assigned to guard a child slipped unwanted into his mind. That time they had all failed to protect their charge, but it had been Deeks who had suffered the most from the loss of the little boy. He had been critically wounded trying to save him, but it was the emotional toll that had ravaged him. It had taken an intervention before he was able to deal with his grief and the powerful guilt he felt, a small vestige of which Callen was convinced he still carried, just as they all did. A strong need to comfort him rushed his senses, the force of it surprising him.

He found himself drawn to Deeks in a way he'd never felt before with anyone, including Sam, who was like his strong right arm. Deeks was beginning to feel like a part of him and he still found himself fighting that closeness while at the same time being amazed by it. Growing up as a foster kid, he'd had only one positive experience with family and it wasn't until Hetty had brought him together with Sam and eventually Kensi that he got a sense of what it meant. They formed a loose knit, makeshift family, but as close as he was to the others, he sometimes still felt alone, isolated by his experiences and his natural inclination to stay aloof from those around him. When he'd first begun to feel a connection with Deeks, he'd resisted the impulse, struggling to keep that defensive shell around his emotions. He didn't trust himself when he was emotional. He hated the lack of control, that feeling that something or someone was driving him in a direction he didn't want to explore. It was easier to deal with people when you kept your distance, but that hadn't worked with Deeks. The day they had found him in that tiny room in South Africa, so brutally damaged and so weak and vulnerable, it had been all he could do to stay in control of his anger. It was as if he himself had been attacked and he had been overcome by a deep need to protect him, to let him know he would not let any more harm come to him. But he had failed to do that, and the guilt he carried over that failure still left him feeling desperately hollow inside.

"Let the memories go, Deeks," he said as he rested his hand lightly on his shoulder, trying to do the same.

"She wanted to swim so badly and I finally just gave in," he said softly before looking up with a hint of sadness haunting his eyes. "It's still hard to think about him."

"We've both got enough to think about without dredging up that painful experience," Callen said as he pulled Deeks away from the edge of the pool.

"I can't fail this time, G," he said as they walked up to the small patio where he had talked with Burke.

"We won't let that happen," Callen assured him. "Not this time."

Deeks stared silently at the pool for a while, quiet again like he'd get for stretches at a time since his kidnapping and it concerned Callen. Whatever Preston Burke had said to him had made him introspective and slightly wounded by the fact that a man he neither liked nor trusted knew intimate details about his life.

"He told me I wasn't the kind of person he wanted around Ruthie," he said softly. "I used to hear that all the time when I was a kid. When I was a sophomore in high school I asked this girl to a dance..."

He hung his head, stopping in mid-sentence before mumbling something Callen couldn't make out.

"What happened?" Callen asked, trying to get him to open up.

"You don't want to hear all my old shit," Deeks said, snorting out an embarrassed laugh.

"I'm here, Deeks, and I'm listening," he said.

Deeks looked over at him as if trying to gauge the sincerity of his words, finally nodding and looking down at his hands.

"When I went to her house to pick her up, I found out she hadn't told her dad who she was going with," he said quietly. "He went ballistic when he saw me, calling me a couple of choice names and ranting about how I was nothing but trouble just like my father. Date never got off the ground. Funny, but that's what popped into my head when Burke said I wasn't the type of person he wanted around his daughter. Some things never change."

Callen had no idea how to respond, having had no experience to compare it to.

"Did you go to the dance without her?" he asked.

"Nah. Just went over to Ray's and drank beer," he answered.

"I snuck into a high school dance once," Callen said with a smirk. "I was living on the streets then, and just happened to walk by. It looked like fun, so I just went in through a side door. I was fourteen. They had all this food, cookies and cakes like I'd never seen before. Man, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven."

"Did you get up the nerve to dance with a girl?" Deeks asked, a curious smile on his face.

"You kidding? I only had eyes for the food," he laughed. "That's how I got caught. I hung around the food table so long a couple of teachers started talking and pointing at me and I knew my time was up, so I stuffed a handful of cookies in one pocket and four or five chicken wings in the other and I was out the door."

"Fast runner, yeah?" Deeks laughed.

"They didn't have a chance in hell of catching me," Callen said. "The chicken wings alone were worth it."

"I always figured you for a leg man, G," Deeks said with a crooked grin.

"When you're living under a freeway, any part of the chicken will do," Callen said, sobering at the memory.

"Yeah, I remember." Deeks' voice was barely above a whisper and his words caught Callen unawares.

"You lived on the streets?"

"Every once in awhile. When my mom couldn't handle me being around she'd lock me out," he replied.

Callen didn't press him for details and they both became lost in their own thoughts as they watched the sun slip lower in the sky. He'd always longed for a mother and father, imagining it as idyllic, full of happy times and laughter, but listening to Deeks and knowing a little of what he went through as a child made him realize there were no guarantees in life, no perfect scenarios. Hell can come in many guises and the two of them had lived through different, yet similar shades of that painful reality. They had more in common than he had ever thought and he reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, needing to make physical contact with him for some reason he didn't understand.

"Callen? Why is Paul Walker really here?" Deeks asked, bringing them both back to the present.

"Someone made a run at him this afternoon when he was being taken to the safe house," Callen answered. "The tactical squad managed to keep him safe, but it was a close call."

"You think there's an inside man," Deeks stated as he looked back at him.

"Yeah," he answered. "Nell and Eric are checking bank accounts again of everyone he works with for an influx of cash."

"You think he'll be safer here?"

"It's a good defensible location. Security cameras, good visuals of the perimeter," Callen said convincingly.

"Agreed, but after what happened today, I'm not sure how cooperative Burke's gonna be," Deeks said quietly.

"After Hetty's little talk with him, I think he'll cooperate," Callen smirked and finally got a smile out of Deeks. "The Walters are old friends."

"There's tension though," Deeks remarked as he stood. "Paul Walters seems like a decent guy. He sure put my mind at ease when he picked up Ruthie in the middle of all that today. He stood up to Burke, too."

"He loves Ruthie," Callen said as they made their way toward the house. "I think he's angry and afraid Burke might want Ruthie to know he's her real dad."

"Burke wants her to like him," Deeks said. "But, Ruthie doesn't want anything to do with him. He's a tight ass and she knows it."

"Are those her sentiments or yours?" Callen asked, getting a crooked grin in return.

They spent the next couple of hours doing a recon of the grounds and familiarizing themselves with the house, until Paul Walters found them and invited them to join the family for dinner. As they made their way into the living room, the three were confronted by Sandra Walters and she did not look happy, glaring at Deeks and not trying to hide her contempt.

"Agent Callen, I assume you know what Deeks did to his own father," she said bitterly. "And yet you allowed him near my family, my little girl, without informing us of what kind of man he is."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sandra?" Paul quickly asked.

"He shot his own father, Paul," she blurted out.

"Callen, is that true?" Paul turned to stare at the agent, taking a step back as his eyes settled on Deeks.

"Yes, it's true," Deeks confirmed softly. "I was..."

"I want him out of here," Sandra Walters demanded, interrupting Deeks' attempt to explain.

Paul Walters stared at Deeks, who's head dropped to his chest as he turned away.

"Do you want the truth, or do you just want Preston Burke's version of the truth?" Callen asked sharply.

"What's he got to do with this?" Paul asked.

"Preston told me everything," Sandra said loudly.

"Really? Everything?" Deeks turned to face them, his voice low and rough. "Did he tell you how falling down drunk my dad was that night? Did he tell you how he beat my mother unconscious before he aimed a shotgun at us? Did he tell you I was eleven years old and that I threw up after I shot him?"

"Deeks," Callen said softly, gripping his shoulder as he pulled him away.

"His father was sent to prison for attempted murder, assault and child abuse," Callen said quietly as he looked back at the shocked faces of Sandra and Paul Walters.

"I'll get my things," Deeks said to Callen and started to walk toward the stairs.

"No need for that, Agent Deeks," Paul said calmly. "Obviously Preston didn't have all the facts."

"Burke had someone hack Deeks' juvenile records," Callen said. "He had every fact, including pictures of their injuries, he just didn't give you all of them."

"He didn't tell me you were just a little boy," Sandra Walters said shakily as she stepped toward Deeks. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. My son is only twelve and I can't imagine him having to do something like that."

"If you'll let me, I would still like to stay on as Ruthie's bodyguard," Deeks said.

"Of course," Paul said. "Please forgive this invasion of your privacy, Agent Deeks."

Deeks nodded and turned to go upstairs and Callen could see how shaken he was. The Walters called to him, trying to convince him to join them for dinner, but he shook his head. Callen begged off as well, saying he had a meeting with his Operations Manager, but he followed Deeks to the stairs, squeezing the back of his neck.

"You okay?" he asked.

"As much as I love being around Ruthie, I can't wait for this assignment to be over," Deeks replied.

"Keep yourself under control, Deeks," Callen cautioned. "Don't confront Burke about this. I'll talk to him in the morning and I have a feeling, so will Hetty."

"I have no desire to even be in the same room with that guy," Deeks said.

"Get some rest, Kid," Callen said as he turned toward the front door.

"Thanks for having my back, G," Deeks said, his body sagging wearily as he climbed the stairs.

Callen stopped when he heard Ruthie's voice tentatively say Deeks' name. He watched the two as they met on the landing, Deeks kneeling down in front of her when she tugged on his hand.

"Did that man hurt you?" she asked in a small voice.

"I'm tough. Don't you know that?" Deeks responded as he held her hand.

The little girl suddenly wrapped her arms around Deeks' neck and hugged him. Callen could see how stunned Deeks was by the gesture, unsure how to respond, his eyes locking on Callen with a questioning look, before simply hugging her back.

"You scared me again," she said as she broke away from him. Her voice had a scolding lilt to it that made Callen smile as Deeks nodded with a sheepish look on his face.

"You mad at me?" he asked.

"No. But you gotta promise not to get hurt again, okay?" she said earnestly.

"I'll try," he said. "Scout's honor."

"Who's Scout?" she asked.

"Tonto's horse," he said with a wide smile.

"Who's Tonto?"

"The Lone Ranger's friend, and one of my nicknames for Kensi."

"Why do you call her that?"

"Cause she can find her way through the desert or the deep, dark woods." He was grinning widely now as Ruthie stared at him.

"Who's the Lone Ranger?"

"I'm the Lone Ranger," he laughed. "I ride a big white horse and come to the rescue of little girls."

"You're just making that up," she said, crossing her arms but giggling at the same time.

"Nope. Scout's honor," he said as he stood up.

"You're silly," she laughed. "I'm hungry. Are you coming to dinner?"

"No sweetie, you go ahead," he said as he started up the remaining stairs.

Callen and Ruthie both watched him go and then looked at each other and smiled.

"He's funny," she said, before growing serious as she came down the stairs and stopped in front of Callen. "Is he really okay?"

"Yeah. He's tough, just like he said," Callen told her.

Ruthie looked at him, seemingly trying to judge if he was telling the truth. She finally nodded and walked off toward the dining room, leaving Callen hoping that what he'd just said was indeed true.

...

...

Moving shadows raced across the immaculate lawn, following the men they belonged to as they approached the house from the rear. The muffled grunt of one of the security guards as he went down barely stopped the silent progress of the ten men dressed in black as they moved past the pool. One man directed the others and two more security guards went down quickly, surprised before they had a chance to defend themselves. The electricity was cut, shutting down the outside lights and the security cameras and alarms just before the locks were picked allowing the team to move inside. The leader sent two man teams to their assigned targets as he moved stealthily up the marble stairs to a large bedroom where he encountered a guard who fought him valiantly, but lost as the dark leader's backup rammed a knife into the base of his spine. The occupant was alone and quickly hauled from the bed, a gloved hand over his mouth silencing any cry he might attempt. As they shoved him down the stairs the man managed to push his captor's hand aside and loudly shouted a warning before being knocked unconscious and dragged down into the living room.

Deeks rose instantly at the sound of Paul Walters' cry, keenly aware that the house had been breached. He moved silently, pulling on his jeans and shoes before gathering his gun and sending a quick distress code on his phone. His mind raced with possibilities and he felt his hands suddenly become slick with sweat, so he blew out his breath as he prepared to get to Ruthie before the intruders did. He slowly opened the door, looking for anyone not supposed to be there, but meeting one of Burke's security men motioning for him to be quiet. Together they watched as two men dressed in black reached the top of the stairs and they fired simultaneously, sending the two men crashing back down the way they'd come. Deeks motioned for the man to stand guard while he entered Ruthie's room, his heart pounding in his chest. She was sitting up in bed, clasping her Wonder Woman doll to her chest and he quivered as relief flooded his body. He signaled for her to keep quiet and saw her nod in the darkness before he gathered her into his arms and headed for the door.

"What's your name?" he whispered to the security man.

"Ross," he said. "Follow me. The back stairs should be clear."

They needed to pass the main staircase to reach their destination and the eerie movement of flashlight beams and the sound of gunfire from down below stopped Deeks. He could see Paul Walters on his knees between two men with heavy duty weapons and then heard a woman's scream and felt Ruthie tighten her grip around his neck. Sandra Walters was forced to her knees beside her husband and was babbling incoherently until one of the men slapped her. Paul charged the man, but a fist across the face and a gun placed to his wife's head stopped him and he sank back down to his knees. The voices of the attackers let Deeks know the men they were dealing with were foreigners and their coordinated attack and teamwork a sign they had military training like the men who'd tried to kidnap Ruthie earlier.

Deeks checked his weapon, preparing himself to try and stop the men from taking Paul Walters before turning to Ross and begrudgingly handed Ruthie over to him. She resisted and he saw fear in her eyes, so he squeezed her shoulder gently and shushed her quietly and she finally let Ross take her. He motioned for him to get her to safety and then moved unnoticed down the darkened stairs, stepping over the crumpled bodies of the dead intruders, making his way quietly down to the landing. As he raised his weapon toward the men below, Ruthie screamed his name. He whipped around at the startled cry just as Ross fired on him. His body slammed backwards against the railing as a searing pain followed the bullet that tore through his left shoulder, sending him tumbling down the stairs to the bottom. He fought the blackness dulling his senses as the men in the living room turned toward him, bringing their weapons up. He instinctively struggled to right himself as flashlight beams flickered over his body, sluggishly raising his weapon and firing before the men could respond. He saw two go down before his vision began to blur, his whole body feeling like lead as he continued to fire. As a couple of men rushed toward him, he saw their apparent leader turn his gun on the Walters, shooting down Sandra, her screams echoing through the dimness of his brain as he slowly blacked out.

"Deeks!"

The sound of his name pulled him toward consciousness and then a full on panic as he remembered that Ross had Ruthie and he wasn't one of the good guys. He opened his eyes to stare into Gus's face and he struggled to get to his feet.

"They have Ruthie," he managed to say as Gus helped him up.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter and he stumbled toward the back of the house, Gus barely able to keep up with him up as he ran, ignoring the pain and dizziness that threatened to stop him. He crashed through the French doors and then he heard Ruthie screaming his name, spurring him madly forward, making him desperate to get to her. Suddenly the lights came on, illuminating a scene that struck him with rabid fear as Ross rushed her toward the waiting helicopter. She was fighting him, but couldn't break free and Deeks felt weakness dragging at his legs as he ran after them. Then she simply disappeared inside, engulfed by the black chopper, which immediately lifted off the grass, rising quickly and leaving him bereft and empty as he shouted her name into the dark sky.

His head began to swim as he turned to look glassy-eyed at Gus before collapsing to his knees, softly repeating her name in a daze. He knew people were around him, but all he could see was Ruthie's tiny face disappearing inside the yawning mouth of the black helicopter and all he could hear was her yelling his name, expecting him to save her.

"Deeks?"

Callen's face swam in front of him and he felt strong hands grip him as he was lowered to the ground.

"I promised her, G," he kept repeating. "I promised her."

"We'll find her Deeks," Callen said.

"You incompetent bastard," Preston Burke shouted at him as he lay on the grass. "You just let them take her, you coward."

"Shut the fuck up, Burke," Callen screamed in the man's face. "He was wounded trying to save all of them."

"Well, he failed," Burke said angrily. "Now get him off of my property."

"Callen," Deeks choked out as he grabbed his arm. "It was one of his men."

"Are you sure, Deeks?" Gus asked.

"He helped me kill two of the attackers," he answered. "So I gave Ruthie to him. I just gave her over, Callen. If she hadn't screamed out a warning, I'd be dead."

"What was his name," Callen asked as the paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher.

"Ross," He mumbled. "I just handed her to him, Callen. How could I do that?"

"You thought you could trust him," Callen said as he walked along side the stretcher as they moved toward the waiting ambulance.

"She was so scared, G," he murmured, berating himself until he passed out.

Callen watched silently as the ambulance pulled away, his hands tightened into fists as he looked at the chaos around him. Sandra Walters was badly wounded and two men from his tactical squad were dead and three of Burke's security people were as well. Paul Walters looked to be in shock as he climbed in the back of the ambulance to be with his wife, while a glowering Preston Burke paced in front of the entrance to his white marble mansion.

Callen knew the shit would hit the fan over this. Burke would see to it, even though it was one of his men who had turned traitor. They couldn't blame Burke for that, since they had vetted the man themselves. Hetty had already heard from Director Vance, questioning once again her decision to assign Deeks to guard the little girl.

"G?" Sam shouted his name as he ran up the steps toward him. "How bad?"

Callen slowly spoke the names of the dead agents, men they had worked with on a regular basis and then the names of Burkes' security team. Even though Sam had never met Ruthie, Callen could see the anger and heartache her abduction was causing.

"And Deeks?" Sam asked softly.

"Bullet through the shoulder," Callen said.

"And?"

"And blaming himself," he answered.

"Kensi's on her way to be with him at the hospital," Sam told him as Gus walked up.

"Callen, you need to see the security footage from our bugs," Gus said, his voice breaking with exhaustion.

The three men started to walk inside to view the footage on Gus's laptop, but Preston Burke blocked their way.

"You're not welcomed here anymore, gentlemen," he said sharply.

"This is a crime scene, Burke," Callen growled, barely being civil. "Now, get the hell out of my way, or I'll have you arrested."

Burke's face grew dark with rage, but he let them pass.

The entryway was smeared with blood from the two dead intruders that lay sprawled there and the living room was even worse with large pools of blood soaking into the thick white carpet and blood splatters dotting the white fabric of the couches and chairs. The bodies of the dead were covered in black tarps that stood out starkly against the cold white marble floor, marking their failure to complete their mission.

Gus brought up the security footage that Eric had sent to his computer and the three men watched it in total silence, flinching only once when they saw Deeks get hit and tumble down the stairs. That he was able to continue firing brought a flicker of a smile to Sam's lips, but it was the cold-blooded nature of the shot fired at Sandra Walters that struck them all as odd. Gus and another agent entered the frame just as the leader had moved his gun over to point it at Paul, but was shot down by the two agents.

"Was he gonna shoot him?" Callen asked, turning to Gus.

"I didn't wait to find out," Gus answered. "But he was definitely trying to kill Mrs. Walters."

"Why kill them?" Sam asked. "I thought they wanted Paul Walters' research?"

"He might not have been trying to shoot Paul," Callen reasoned. "Maybe he was trying to get him to head toward the helicopter."

"Lot's of questions, but no one left to answer them," Sam said.

The three men stood among the silent chaos of death, unsure of what they had just seen and what it all might mean to their case.

"Whoever hired these guys has the money and the will to get what he wants no matter how many lives it costs," Callen said quietly. "And right now, that guy has Ruthie."

...

…


	11. Chapter 11

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 11_

...

Callen stood numbly at the base of the white marble stairs, staring at the slick smear of Deeks' blood where he had fallen a little over an hour ago. The business like voices of the forensic teams and agents clearing the scene seemed muted and unimportant as he tried to come to terms with what had happened. Hearing Eric's frantic voice in his ear about Deeks' distress call had sent him racing across the sleeping city, fearful once again about the fate of the young agent he now couldn't get out of his mind. He had almost gotten here in time to protect him and the little girl, but again he had failed and he choked down the bitter taste he was left with.

He had shot down two men as he'd entered the house, shouting Deeks' name as he ran, adrenaline pumping through his body as the back up tactical squad spread out through the rooms. The scattered bodies of the dead and wounded had barely made him pause as the sound of helo blades sent him running through the shattered French doors and out onto the patio, the scene instantly and brilliantly illuminated as power was restored. The sight of Deeks falling to his knees in the middle of the vast lawn as the helicopter disappeared into the black sky made him quicken his pace until he'd stood breathless by his side. He'd swallowed down a flash of fear, as he took in the blood stained white t-shirt he wore, thankful he saw no other wounds, but frightened by the haunted look of defeat in his eyes. He had grown even more concerned by the desperate tone of Deeks' voice as he berated himself and the need to console him had been overwhelming, the words he spoke sounding inadequate even in his own ears. Now as he stood staring at his blood on the floor, he tried desperately to distance himself, to keep his feelings for Deeks at arms length so he could function. This was too hard and his anger reached the critical stage and he was consumed by the need to physically respond in some way, but there were only dead bodies to be angry with and the unknown person who had orchestrated it all.

"You okay, G?" Sam asked as he came up behind him.

"I'm fine," he replied tightly.

"No you're not," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Then why ask?" he snapped.

"Cause I expect you to tell me the truth, partner," Sam said, emphasizing the last word in the no nonsense voice Callen was very familiar with.

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" he almost shouted. "That I let him down again?"

"This isn't the same, G," Sam said. "He was surrounded by security guards and our own agents. He was ambushed by someone we thought was on our side. How is that your fault?"

"You're right," Callen said as he let out a shaky breath. "I just hate seeing him hurt again."

"Me too," Sam said as he put a comforting hand on Callen's shoulder. "He's gonna be alright, G."

"Is he? You didn't see the look in his eyes when I got to him," Callen said brusquely.

"Go see him," Sam said softly. "I'll wrap things up here."

"There's nothing I can do at the hospital," Callen said, dismissing the advice out of hand.

"You need to know he's okay so you can do your job and the only way to do that is to see him and talk to him," Sam said. "It'll help if you see him."

"You think I need help?" Callen asked, getting exasperated.

"This is new for you, G," Sam explained knowingly. "Caring deeply about someone makes you crazy sometimes, especially when they're hurt. Your reactions are not always gonna be rational. That's just the way it is, man."

"What do you mean?" Callen said, blinking hard as he turned to confront his partner. "He's just a member of my team, that's all."

"You think I'm blind, man? I'm your partner. I know when you're lying, G, even if it's to yourself," Sam said. "I was with you on that flight to Wyoming, remember? You lost it, man. You tried to tear the inside of that plane apart and probably would have if I hadn't been there. You lost it because you care about him. Why are you so afraid to admit that, especially to me? You let me in and that's been pretty good, right? Right?"

"Sometimes," Callen smirked as he stared at his partner.

"Now you're just being stubborn," Sam laughed. "And why am I not surprised."

"I don't understand why I feel this way, Sam," he said quietly. "I can't seem to control it."

"And you always want to be in control," Sam said.

"It helps in this job."

"I've never seen you afraid of anything, G," Sam said, challenging him. "It's Deeks, man. What are you afraid of?"

Callen didn't say anything; he just stared down at the blood trail Deeks had left on the floor.

"Is Burke still around?" He asked.

"He left. Said he was going back to his condo downtown," Sam said. "That's where he was when this happened. When the security system went down, he got an automatic call on his cell phone and when he couldn't reach anyone, he rushed back here. At least that's what he told me when I questioned him, which he was not too happy about, by the way."

"He didn't go to the hospital?" Callen asked.

"If he did, he didn't tell me," Sam replied. "But, you can look for him when you get there."

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Callen said, finally smiling now that the decision was made. "I'll head back to Ops after I've seen Deeks. Maybe Eric and Nell will have found something for us to go on by then. That chopper couldn't have just disappeared."

"Let me know how he's doing, G," Sam said.

Callen nodded solemnly as he pushed through the heavy front door, his mind searching for answers about his emotions and about the case. He struggled to focus, finally understanding that Sam had been right. He wouldn't be able to concentrate until he was sure Deeks was okay.

...

...

He felt nothing, heard nothing, but smelled the oddness of the suffocating air around him as he tried to force his eyes open. Had they blindfolded him this time? He couldn't feel the gag in his mouth and the first inkling of fear prickled under his fingernails and at the base of his spine. His mind rushed with white noise as he waited in the dulling silence, waiting for the first brush of those insatiable hands against his skin. Just that thought scratching at the back of his mind caused him to moan in anticipation of the pain he knew would come. He was alone. No one was coming, except him. No one. No one would protect him. No one would save him and he slowly began to nurture the anger that was building low in his abdomen and that rose hotly, clogging his throat and circling his mind until it was roaring unchecked and waiting.

...

...

Kensi's face broke into a small, tremulous smile when Callen walked into the small waiting room next to the OR. He gave her a hug and the two needed no words to express what they were feeling, neither forgetting how many wearisome hours they had spent over the past year waiting in hospitals during Deeks' long recovery. The uncertainty that had become so familiar during those exhausting days, once again was visible in their eyes and how they held themselves as Callen asked for news.

"I just talked to the surgeon," Kensi said. "He was lucky. The bullet just missed the main artery in his shoulder, but nicked the joint. It was a through and through. He's in recovery now. The nurse is coming to take us in."

"Ruthie warned him," Callen said softly.

"Any news about her?" Kensi asked.

"Eric said there were no markings on the helicopter," Callen answered. "Heard anything about Sandra Walters?"

"She's still in surgery," Kensi said. "Paul Walters was here a few minutes ago, but one of the doctors made him go down to the ER and get checked out. He's probably got a concussion and has some pretty nasty cuts on his face. I sent a protection detail with him. What the hell happened, Callen?"

"A well orchestrated raid. Ten men, probably ex-military personnel, like before," he answered in a husky voice. "They had an inside man, one of Burke's security men. He's the one who shot Deeks. If Ruthie hadn't yelled out a warning he would probably be dead."

"You okay, Callen?" Kensi asked. "You sound kind of ragged."

Callen didn't have a chance to reply as a nurse interrupted, asking them to follow her into the recovery ward to see Deeks. They passed several curtained cubicles in the quiet space, lost in their own thoughts until a large bald man in scrubs crashed backward out onto the floor in front of them.

"Sonofabitch!" The man muttered, wiping the blood from his nose." Give me some help here, and bring some restraints. This guy just broke my nose."

Then he was up as another man joined him, holding dark straps in his hands and the two men moved purposefully back inside the closed curtains.

"Deeks!" Callen and Kensi yelled in unison and pushed past the stunned nurse, throwing open the curtains to witness the violent struggle taking place as Deeks fought the two determined orderlies struggling to tie him down.

"Stop it!" Callen yelled, grabbing the bald man as he secured Deeks' right arm to the bed frame.

Suddenly Deeks screamed as the other man put pressure on his wounded shoulder and Kensi lost it. She quickly grabbed the orderly's arm, jerking him away and bending it painfully up behind his back as she shoved him as hard as she could out of the cubicle and onto the floor. He stared at her with stunned amazement and started to get up, but the dark anger on her face and her finger pointing ominously at him made him reconsider.

"Federal agents," Callen called out loudly as he held up his badge.

"This guy a prisoner?" The man still holding onto Deeks asked. "Why weren't we informed?"

"He's a federal agent. Now get your hands off him." Callen's voice was heavy and menacing and the orderly carefully backed away from him.

Callen quickly released the restraint on Deeks' right arm, looking into his wild eyes as he tried to calm him. The raw rage he saw there was not what he expected to see and he looked over at Kensi as she made her way to the other side of his bed.

"Deeks, you're safe," Kensi said soothingly. "We're not going to let them tie you down."

Deeks slowly closed his eyes as he grimaced in pain, panting with shallow breaths and moaning softly.

"He's here," he whispered. "The bastard touched me."

"No Deeks, he's dead, remember?" Callen said softly. "It was just a dream."

Deeks blinked slowly as he looked between Callen and Kensi, his breathing finally easing.

"I couldn't let them tie me up again, Kens," he said as he slipped toward sleep. "I have to resist. I have to fight back."

His breathing deepened and his body slowly went limp as Kensi gently brushed a thumb across his cheek, her fingers entwined in his hair.

"He's back under," the head nurse said as she stood at the end of his bed. "Sometimes people have flashbacks when they're coming out from under anesthesia. I'm sorry. He must have gone through something terrible to have that violent a reaction."

"He was tied down and tortured for eight days last year," Callen said quietly, exhausted by what had happened. "He thought your orderly was the man who tortured him."

"Shit. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to hurt him, man," the big man said softly. "But he did resist, like he said. Hell, he broke my nose with a pretty solid punch for someone just out of surgery. We'll stay away from him and let him wake up by himself."

When they were gone, Callen sat down heavily in a plastic chair, trying to catch his breath at the onslaught of memories that were suddenly fresh again.

"It's always with him," Kensi said as she combed her fingers through his hair. "He can't escape, Callen. As much as I want everything to be back to normal, it's not. His time with Jürgen hangs between us like some dark curtain and I don't know how to get through it, to reach him like I used to."

"He'll get through it on his own," Callen said. "You heard him. He's resisting. He's fighting for himself Kens, and maybe that's the way it should be."

"He was in a rage just now," she said. "I haven't seen that before, but he told me that's how he felt when he killed the Afrikaner that beat Thuso and the one who came into his cell before he escaped the first time. He said that kind of rage came from his father and it scared him a little, but it helped him survive."

"Kensi?" Deeks eyes opened slowly and a look of confusion clouded his face.

"Hey, Deeks," she said as they both moved closer to his side.

"I had a weird dream," he said slowly. "Jürgen was here and I punched him in the nose."

"The guy you really punched is an orderly," Callen laughed. "And he is not happy about the broken nose you gave him."

"Seriously?" Deeks asked. "God, it seemed so real. He touched me and I just started fighting."

"They tried to tie you down, and things got a little interesting," Callen said. "Kensi nearly broke one of the guy's arms when she threw him out."

"You beat up a nurse, Kens?" Deeks smiled, but then his eyes turned a deep shade of gray and he turned quickly to face Callen.

"Ruthie. What about Ruthie? Did you find her?" He was anxious as he grabbed Callen's arm. "Tell me you rescued her, G."

"We're working on it," Callen said, hoping to calm him down.

"Dammit," Deeks murmured, his anger morphing into sadness as he stared blankly at them. "She must be so scared. I failed her, G. I promised I wouldn't let anyone take her."

"Will get her back," Callen tried to reassure him. "Eric is looking for the helicopter. No markings, but that hasn't stopped him before."

"Who were those guys?" Deeks asked. "Did Burke hire them?"

"Why would you think that?" Kensi asked.

"Ross worked for him," Deeks said. "Burke was there right after it happened. I remember how angry he was at me."

"He was downtown, Deeks," Callen said. "He got there after I did. We'll check him out, but Sam said he looked surprised when he told him Ross shot you and took Ruthie. He's genuinely worried about her Deeks. She's his daughter."

"Are the Walters okay?" he asked, his voice wavering as he spoke.

"Mrs. Walters is in surgery. They shot her," Callen said.

"What? Why would they do that?" Deeks looked shocked by the information and his breathing became ragged. "What about Ruthie's dad?"

"Paul's okay, but scared for his wife and out of his mind over Ruthie," Kensi said softly, gently squeezing his arm as she tried to ease his mind.

"I have to find her," Deeks said absently, throwing off the blankets and trying to get out of the bed.

"Hey cowboy, you're not going anywhere," Kensi said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back down. "You just got out of surgery."

"Trust me, Deeks," Callen said gently. "We'll do everything we can to find her. Okay?"

"Okay, G," he said, finally laying his head back on the pillow.

"I'm heading back to Ops, but Kensi will stay with you," he told him. "I'll keep you updated."

...

The drive to Ops was a blur for Callen, his mind unable to get the scene at the hospital out of his mind. The fear and rage on Deeks' face as he fought had stunned him, but it was his own deep anger at the two men trying to tie him down that disturbed him. He had been filled with an almost uncontrollably need to protect Deeks and it had taken all of his self control not to follow the urge to beat the shit out of the big orderly who was hurting him. He couldn't allow that kind of heavy emotion to control him. The contentment their connection had brought him earlier was gone, replaced by an unsettling feeling and lack of control over his own life. He had to find a way to distance himself from Deeks so he could do his job and before it changed him. Feeling this attached to someone was almost debilitating and he didn't like what it was doing to him. He had never felt this way, even with Sam. Deeks had fought to protect himself and now Callen felt he had to do the same.

He decided he would physically distance himself from Deeks and only deal with him through Kensi. Not seeing him might make things easier. He suddenly longed for the unencumbered life he'd once had, a life free of emotional complications and attachments, a life that was private, that was his alone. He knew Deeks was going to be fine and that did make him feel better, but he needed to stay aloof, he needed to be the old Callen, the lone wolf, a man without family, a man able to dispassionately assess elements of a case without becoming entangled in it personally. This attachment to Deeks wasn't him and how he had allowed it to happen still baffled him. He didn't want the responsibility that came with it. He'd always been a loner and that's the way he liked it and the way he wanted it to be again.

He walked into Ops under tight control, his mind clear for the first time in days. He was back on familiar ground and he coolly charged into Ops with authority, determined to solve this case.

"How's Deeks?" Eric asked.

"Fine. Where are you on finding that chopper?" he asked, the blunt reply causing Eric and Nell to exchange surprised looks.

"Uh, nothing yet, but I'm checking all the airfields for any matching the description," he answered.

"Nell. Give me what you've got on the dead men," Callen ordered.

"All mercenaries hired by the man we think was the leader," she said. "Facial rec identified him as Gerrard Duval, a former high ranking officer in the paramilitary branch of the French Armed Forces known as the National Gendarmerie. The others were known associates he had worked with from all over Europe when he became an independent contractor for hire."

"Any connection to Preston Burke?" he asked slowly.

"None that I can find," she answered. "Do you want me to keep looking?"

"Right now, I want to know if anyone has tried to contact Paul Walters," he said. "You have a lock on his cell phone, I assume."

"Yeah, we can monitor any calls he receives," Eric said. "Nothing so far, but it's not even dawn yet."

"Find anything on Paul's co-workers?" His voice sharp as he flipped through the latest file. "Any unusual deposits in their bank accounts?"

"We're focusing on one guy, Millard Shaw," Nell interjected. "His bank account has some rather large deposits as of yesterday and we're still trying to track where they came from."

"I don't remember Paul mentioning the guy," Callen said quietly. "But the last couple of days have been pretty distracting."

"How's his wife?" Nell asked carefully.

"She was still in surgery when I left the hospital," he answered as his eyes searched the photographs on the big screen. "Kensi can update you on that."

"Can she update us about Deeks, too?" Nell asked boldly, earning a cold stare.

"Yeah, that's her job," Callen said. "Sam call in yet? He was wrapping things up at Burke's house."

"Sam's on his way in," Eric told him.

"I'll be at my desk if you get anything new," Callen said impassively as he walked out.

Hetty stood at the top of the stairs as he exited Ops. He barely glanced at her as he tried to go around her, but she put her hand up and he stopped, still refusing to look at her.

"Something I can help you with Hetty?"

"I spoke with Kensi and she told me what happened," Hetty said, watching him intently. "That must have been hard to watch."

"He's fine, Hetty," Callen said with a hint of irritation. "He's a survivor."

"So are you Mr. Callen, but each of us go about surviving in different ways," she said softly.

"Your point?"

"Mr. Deeks is trying to face his demons head on. Fighting. Resisting," she said. "You however, think that if you simply reject what makes you uncomfortable, push it aside as if it doesn't exist, then everything will be fine and you can go on as you always have."

"Been talking to Nate again, Hetty?" he asked with a smirk as he started down the stairs.

"You can't ignore him, Mr. Callen," she said. "And you won't be able to ignore your feelings for long. They're still there, you've just tucked them away because you're afraid to face them."

"I'm not afraid of anything," Callen said harshly as he stopped on the landing. "Stay out of my head, Hetty."

"It's not your head I'm worried about, Mr. Callen," she said as he made his way to the base of the stairs. "And it's not what you're protecting either."

"Hetty?" Nell was suddenly at her side. "Paul Walters just received a phone call."

Sam joined Callen as they all took their places in Ops, listening carefully to the voice of the man who was holding Ruthie, or so he claimed. Paul Walters was almost hysterical with worry; they could hear it in his voice as he received instructions from the kidnapper. The man's voice was distorted, but his instructions quite clear. Paul Walters had to deliver the research he was working on or Ruthie would disappear permanently.

"Kensi?" Callen said emphatically into the phone. "Get eyes on Paul Walters now. He just heard from the kidnappers."

The wait was not long, even though it seemed as if it were an eternity until they heard her voice again, now projected so everyone could hear.

"I can't find him," she shouted. "Our agents said he went to the bathroom, but never came back. I've sent them outside to search and I'm headed back up to the OR to see if he's there."

"Find him Kensi. We can't afford to have him make his own deal," Callen said, exasperated at the turn of events. "We need to know who's behind this."

"I'm checking security camera's around the hospital," Eric said.

"Eric." Nell said nervously. "I just traced the number from the caller. It came from inside the hospital."

Eric speedily started checking all the inside security cameras and those in the parking garage.

"There!" Sam said. "That's Walters with two guys in the parking garage."

The grainy gray images showed him being shoved into a dark Mercedes and driven quickly out of the garage. Eric was able to track the vehicle via traffic cams as it entered the underground parking garage of a large office building a mile away.

"No working security cams in the garage," Eric said tensely.

"Not a lot of traffic this early in the morning either," Nell said quietly as they waited to see if any other vehicle left the garage, but there was nothing.

"What if they went upstairs?" Sam said. "They wait until six or seven and that place will be flooded with cars and people coming into work."

"Can you hack the inside security system for that building, Eric," Hetty asked.

"Already tried. It's a closed system," he said softly.

"We can't wait any longer," Callen said. "Tell Kensi to meet us at that building. Keep us posted Eric."

The thirty-minute race through the streets ended as Sam's Challenger skidded to a stop just inside the main entrance of the parking garage. Kensi and the tactical unit were already there as was a bleeding Paul Walters. Kensi had already called for an ambulance and had lowered him down so that he was leaning back against one of the concrete pillars.

"What the hell did you do, Paul," Callen asked loudly.

"I had to do it," he said weakly. "They have Ruthie."

"Tell us what happened," Sam said.

"They took me up to one of the empty offices," he began. "There was a computer sitting on a desk and they told me to access and download my research or they would make a phone call to the person holding Ruthie. They threatened to kill her, Agent Callen. So, I did it. What choice did I have?"

"Did they tell you where to find her?" Kensi asked.

"They said they'd leave her at my dad's farm," he said.

"And you believe them?" Callen asked harshly.

"I have to," he answered. "But, I'm not a traitor Agent Callen. What I downloaded is a bastardized version of my research. It will look like the real thing, but it's not viable."

Slow smiles broke out among the agents, all except for Callen.

"Why didn't they kill you?" Callen asked.

"They tried," he answered. "But some guy was standing at the elevator door when we came down and I ran. They killed him and wounded me."

"That's when we got here," Kensi said. "They took off when they saw us."

"Would you recognize them?" Callen continued to press.

"I think so," he answered. "They were Middle Eastern, if that helps."

Sam and Callen stared at each other as the ambulance pulled into the garage along with a couple of LAPD squad cars. Callen started to say something when his phone buzzed.

"Mr. Callen?" Hetty said. "Millard Shaw's dead body was just discovered. Looks like Mr. Walters' co-worker was involved."

Callen gave her a complete account of what happened before informing her of his next stop.

"Kensi and I are on our way to the Walters' farm to pick up Ruthie," he said. "Could you let Deeks know?"

"Of course, Mr. Callen," she said kindly. "It will ease his mind, but you already thought of that."

...

...


	12. Chapter 12

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 12_

...

He flinched. The touch forcing his eyes to flash open and his heart to flutter briefly until he saw the familiar face and the sad eyes so filled with concern. He had been caught up in the dregs of his nighttime memories; how Ruthie had looked as the man ran with her into the night, her hair bobbing around her screaming face, how his labored breathing had sounded in his ears as he struggled to keep pace and how the helicopter had swallowed her as if it were a living monster. He remembered cursing the man between calling out Ruthie's name, not wanting to believe he was going to fail to reach her. He still didn't want to believe he had failed her and that thought kept him mute for a few minutes as the man he called brother stood silently watching him.

"Sorry Joe. Haven't done that in a while," he apologized softly. "Kensi call you?"

"Hetty," Joe answered, suddenly leaning down and wrapping him in a bear hug so reminiscent of his father.

"You really know how to piss me off, little brother," he said, choking on the words. "How'd you manage to get yourself shot, dumbass? You working without backup again?"

Deeks slowly sketched out what had happened, at least what he could remember, taking his time to work through the details and searching for elusive answers to his own confusing questions.

"So your own backup shot you?" Joe stated angrily. "Did they catch the bastard?"

"No. He and Ruthie are still missing," Deeks said, sullen and subdued. "I let her down, Joe. I promised her, but I couldn't make good on it. I was too late. I couldn't reach her. God, Joe, she looked so small and so helpless. She's all alone and scared..."

He almost lost it then, his voice choked into silence as Joe's strong hand gently massaged his shoulder, helping him ride out the tide of emotion that threatened his barely held composure. He couldn't allow those emotions to have free rein, not now, desperately wanting to hold on to his growing anger.

"Calm down, Marty," Joe said. "The team will find her. They found you didn't they?"

"I won't be calm until we get her back," Deeks said roughly. "I just keep going over it again and again and I don't know what I would have done differently. The security guy, Ross, shot one of the attackers. Why would he do that if he were working with them? It doesn't make sense."

"Well, somebody paid him, that's for sure," Joe said, patting him gently on the arm. "Always follow the money."

"Yeah." Deeks became silent and reflective, not able to voice his fears that he was responsible for the loss of another child. Even though he knew she was just being used as a pawn to get Paul Walters' research, he couldn't shake the feeling that he might never see her again and it shook him.

"You've really grown attached to this little girl," Joe said with a knowing smile.

"She makes me want to have kids, Joe," he said quietly.

"How does Kensi feel about that?"

"We haven't talked seriously about us for quite awhile," Deeks said as he fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "Not since your wedding. And that was just about getting married. Kids weren't even a part of the conversation."

"That was a long time ago, man," Joe said with a surprised frown.

"Yeah, well, I haven't exactly been marriage material for a long time, either," Deeks said bitterly.

"Marty, don't do that," Joe said anxiously.

"Do what, Joe?" he replied angrily. "I've been a mess for so long I'm surprised she hung around at all. She probably just feels sorry for me."

"You are so full of shit, if you didn't have a gunshot wound I'd slug you, you dumbass," Joe said roughly.

"I've missed you," Deeks suddenly laughed. "Everyone's afraid to cuss me out like you do, afraid I'll go all silent and morose."

"Yeah? Well I'm your big brother so I'm entitled to kick your ass when you need it," he replied. "And if you keep talking shit I will. Kensi loves you, man. You know that."

"I know," he said, smiling softly to himself. "She beat up an orderly who was trying to tie me to the bed. I woke up fighting and I don't know what would have happened if Kensi and Callen hadn't been here."

"Shit. You okay?" Joe said, his worry obvious as he moved closer to his side.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "Callen's been looking out for me."

"You two getting close?" Joe asked. "You're not trying to replace me are you?"

"You're one of a kind, Joe," Deeks said, snorting out a quick laugh. "You're the big brother I used to fantasize about when I was a kid. What kid wouldn't want a cowboy secret agent as a brother?"

"There's no question I got Callen beat when it comes to riding a horse," Joe said, mussing Deeks' hair as they laughed together.

"But you're closer than work buddies," Joe said with understanding. "He's been the one around you on a daily basis and I know he's helped you through some pretty shitty times. That has to mean something to both of you."

"We're closer than I ever thought possible," Deeks said. "To be honest, him opening up to me has surprised the hell out of me. I know he worries about me and gets pissed if I put myself in danger, but what that means in the long run, I don't know. Callen's a complicated guy and I don't know if he'll want to stick with me. He's always been a loner and I think he likes it that way. He even pulls away from Sam at times and they've been partners for a long time."

"So you've got your guard up just in case," Joe said, shaking his head. "Always ready for rejection."

"Old habits die hard as they say," Deeks said with a sad smile. "But I hope that doesn't happen. I kinda like having two brothers. You know, in case you flake out on me."

"You can't help being annoying, can you?" Joe said with a wide grin.

Deeks' phone buzzed on the side table and he bit his bottom lip nervously as he answered, putting the call on speaker so Joe could listen in.

"How are you Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked kindly.

"Feeling like I didn't do my job," he said bitterly. "Any news on Ruthie?"

"Mr. Callen and Kensi are on their way to pick her up at her grandfather's farm," she told him. "That's where the kidnappers were going to drop her after they got Walters' research. We'll keep you posted Mr. Deeks."

"Thanks Hetty. I'll be waiting," Deeks said and then ended the call.

He couldn't hold in his emotions any longer and felt himself begin to tremble as he blinked back the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Joe kept a hand firmly on his neck until he could control himself.

"She has to be alright, Joe," Deeks murmured. "I don't know what I'll do if they hurt her."

...

...

Callen was apprehensive from the moment they arrived, his gun poised and ready by his side as he stood across from Kensi at the front door of the Walters' farmhouse. She called out the agency name and flashed a look of concern at Callen when there was no answer and he nodded at her as she fished her lock picks from the pocket of her jeans. He counted down and then pushed inside, moving rapidly through the house, meeting only silence and feeling a sense of dread that was mirrored in Kensi's eyes.

"Ruthie?" His call echoed through the empty rooms and he felt his heart pumping in his ears.

"She's afraid Callen," Kensi said softly. "She might be hiding."

"Ruthie it's me, Callen," he shouted out as they moved into her bedroom. "I'm Deeks' friend, remember?"

Their fruitless search left them feeling uneasy and angry.

"Deeks told me she liked to climb trees. Maybe she's in the orchard," Kensi said as she headed out the patio doors.

They moved quickly through the rows of trees calling her name, but heard only the innocent replies of birds. Their pace slowed with the realization that they were alone and they finally found themselves at the back fence.

"Hetty, she's not here," Callen reported dejectedly into his cell as he secured his weapon. "And there's no sign anyone else has been here either."

"I'm afraid there's more bad news, Mr. Callen," she said solemnly. "The black helicopter was spotted in the water off Santa Rosa Island. Divers are in the water now."

Callen leaned back heavily against the fence and stared at Kensi, stunned into silence.

"What happened?" Kensi quickly asked. "Is Deeks okay?"

"We'll be at the hospital, Hetty," Callen said. "I won't tell him until you call me with news."

"Both of you stay close to him," Hetty said and then hung up.

"Callen, tell me," Kensi demanded.

"The chopper the kidnappers used crashed in the ocean off the Channel Islands," he said as he stared out over the ridgeline.

"Oh God," Kensi walked away from him and tightly gripped a limb on one of the trees. "If Ruthie has been killed, it will devastate Deeks."

"I know," Callen whispered.

"Why isn't she here, Callen?" Kensi questioned, suddenly furious. "They would have dropped her here first before flying that far away, wouldn't they?"

"Unless it was a lie and they never intended to leave her here at all," Callen reasoned. "Maybe they wanted to make sure the research was viable before returning her."

"Do you think they discovered it was bastardized this fast?" Kensi asked. "How could they know that so soon?"

"The crash might have happened after they offloaded the passengers," Callen said hopefully. "Maybe they're holding Ruthie somewhere on Santa Rosa Island or on a boat."

"Who's going to tell Paul Walters?" she asked sadly.

"We're not telling anyone anything until we hear from Hetty," he said as he pushed away from the fence and started back toward the house.

The drive to the hospital allowed the two agents the time to discuss all the various possibilities and scenarios and by the time they arrived they were somewhat encouraged, even though nothing was concrete. Neither one left the car, unwilling to face Deeks or Paul Walters until they had more information. Kensi confirmed what Callen already knew, that Deeks would know something was wrong the minute he saw her face. Callen was convinced he could keep what he was feeling hidden, but Kensi just laughed when he said it and he scowled at her just as his cell phone rang, wiping the smiles from their faces.

"There was no sign of Ruthie in the downed helicopter," Hetty said soberly. "But Ross' body was found strapped into one of the seats. He'd been shot in the head."

"What do I tell Paul Walters, Hetty?" Callen asked, unsure of himself after the news.

"The body of one of the pilots was found washed up on shore of the island," she replied. "They are searching for others."

"So they think Ruthie might have been washed away from the scene of the crash," Callen said sadly.

"Yes."

"But there's no clear proof she's dead," he stated calmly.

"Not yet, Mr. Callen," she answered. "But if she wasn't at the farm, the last place she was seen was in that helicopter."

"You're assuming the worst," he said.

"Not yet. I have Eric and Nell searching for the men who took Paul Walters' research," she said. "They are our only link to her. If they still have her, we have to find them and get her back."

"What do I tell her father?" Callen asked. "What do I tell Deeks?"

"Tell them we're still looking, Mr. Callen," she answered before ending the call.

Both agents walked reluctantly into the hospital and up to Deeks' room, looking at each other with dread as they stood outside. Callen hated that he even had to be here, his decision to distance himself from Deeks now cast aside by the circumstances. Kensi had offered to go in alone when she saw how hesitant he had been after talking to Hetty, but he had shaken his head no. He could do this. It was his job as team leader and he was baffled once again by his unsteady emotions as he tried to mentally prepare himself for Deeks' reaction. When he pushed open the door he was surprised to see Joe Atwood sitting next to Deeks' bed, and the feeling of relief was immediate. Joe signaled for their silence, indicating that Deeks was sleeping and then rose to give Kensi a hug as she moved quickly to Deeks' side.

"What's wrong, Callen?" Joe asked softly. "And don't tell me nothing, cause I can see it in your eyes."

"Any news?" Deeks asked sleepily as he woke. "Did you find her?"

Callen felt his heart drop, but then steeled himself and calmly told him what they knew, watching as various emotions rippled across Deeks' face. He could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he was surrounded by friends and family and he finally just let go. Silent tears slipped down one cheek as his jaw tightened.

"But they haven't found her body," he said, his voice breaking on the last word.

"No."

"Then she's not dead," he said firmly and threw the blankets aside. "Where are my clothes?"

"Hey little brother, where the hell do you think you're going?" Joe said as he walked around the bed and put his hand on Deeks' chest.

"Well, I'm not staying here," he answered, his determination evident as he lowered the bedrail.

Kensi reach to grabbed his shoulder, but he shrugged her off and swung his legs over the side, only to be met by his equally determined brother.

"You just got shot, dumbass," Joe said, trying to push him back.

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Now get out of my way, Joe," he scoffed stubbornly as he stood up in front of him.

"Not a chance, Marty," Joe smiled as he blocked his way. "I'll knock you out if I have to."

"Deeks, please," Kensi pleaded. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Kens, I promised her," he said. "Don't you understand? I promised her."

"Deeks, we're doing all we can to find her," Callen finally said angrily. "There's nothing you can do and I don't have time to babysit you right now, so stop acting like an idiot and get back in bed."

Deeks stared at him, shocked by the harsh words. Callen took a step towards him, but Deeks shoved him forcefully away, a sullen fierceness darkening his face.

"Is that what you've been doing? Babysitting the pathetic agent who can't do anything right?" he asked bitterly. "I should have known better than to think you really cared. You know how to bullshit the best of them and I fell for it. You're free, Callen. No strings holding you here."

Kensi glared at Callen before wrapping her arms around Deeks as his anger and energy faded. His head dropped onto her shoulder as she held him close, whispering promises in his ear until he nodded in agreement. Joe helped him back in bed and he turned away from them and closed his eyes. Each one of them spoke to him, but got no response and Callen was the first to turn away and slam out of the room, unable to watch him go silent again. Joe caught up with him as he stalked down the hall, oblivious to those around him.

"Callen?" Joe said sharply as he grabbed his arm. "What the hell is wrong with you? He didn't need that, you sonofabitch."

"He's wounded. He needs to rest and recover," Callen said coldly. "Or should I have just let you knock him out?"

Callen pulled away from him and walked off, his fists clenched and held close to his sides as he silently berated himself for the insensitive words that had just crushed a friendship. Why he had spoken so cruelly to Deeks confused him and he felt nothing but regret for what he had done. Deeks hadn't deserved that, especially after what had happened with Ruthie. He thought about turning around and going back to talk to him, but didn't, reasoning that it was better this way for both of them. All the emotions were complicating things and he didn't need that right now, not if he was going to find out what had happened. Deeks had Joe and Kensi. He would be fine.

Kensi caught up with him at the car as he talked on the phone with Eric. He could tell how angry she was, but he couldn't deal with that as he listened to the information about the recovered helicopter.

"We're going to Point Magu," he said coolly.

"Fine," she said.

"We good?" he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Don't talk to me right now. I'm still pissed at you," she answered, her attitude surly, so he let it go, unwilling to get into an argument with her too.

When they were half way to the naval base, Callen decided to try and explain.

"I didn't mean to be that harsh, Kens," he said softly. "He's not in any shape to leave the hospital."

"You knew he was going to beat himself up over losing her," Kensi said, staring out her window. "Did you really expect him to just lie there and not want to go find her? He's crazy about Ruthie."

"I know," Callen said.

"Is that how you really feel, Callen?" Kensi turned to look at him with a deep sadness in her eyes. "You basically told him he needed a babysitter and that you couldn't be bothered. Why would you say that?"

"I don't know," Callen said softly. "It's too hard being that close to someone. It throws me off balance. I'm not used to it."

"You and Sam are like brothers," she said. "What's so different with Deeks?"

"Sam doesn't really need me, Kens," Callen answered. "I don't worry as much about him as I do about Deeks. I think I care too much and I don't know how to deal with that."

"I used to feel the same way," she said, picking at her fingers as she talked. "When I first realized how much he meant to me, I pulled away and in some ways I still find myself doing that. What are we so afraid of Callen?"

"You're asking me?" Callen smirked. "I'm trying to be the aloof one, remember?"

"I'm glad Joe was there," she said. "He and George had no problem taking him into their family and loving him. He needs that. He deserves that kind of commitment. I'm not sure I'm ready to do that just yet."

"But you love him too, Kens," Callen said.

"Yeah, I do," she said. "But I'm not sure I'm the marrying kind, Callen, and he is. He craves a family, the kind with kids and picket fences and puppy dogs, but I'm not sure that's what I want or who I am."

"I know what you mean," he replied. "We're all about the job."

"Yeah and I'm not sure where that leave Deeks," she said solemnly.

They didn't speak again until arriving at the entrance to Naval Base Ventura County, showing their IDs and being directed to the location of the recovered helicopter. Getting back to the job calmed them both down and their focus became intense as they examined the chopper.

"Not gonna be a lot of forensic evidence," Callen mused. "We're not even sure how long it was in the water."

"Maybe Eric and Nell can figure out a time line," Kensi said as she stared at the water soaked interior.

"Where were they going, and why didn't they drop Ruthie off at the house?" Callen asked as he stepped out of the chopper.

"Callen," Kensi's voice was strained and he turned to look at her as she reached down between the seats in the back of the helicopter.

"What'd you find?" he asked.

Kensi held up a bedraggled doll and Callen saw her blink back tears.

"It's Ruthie's Wonder Woman doll," she said shakily. "She must have taken it with her when Deeks took her out of her room. Callen, she wouldn't have left it here if they had dropped her off someplace else."

"She could have let go of it in a struggle," Callen reasoned.

"She was alone and frightened," Kensi said. "This doll was her only comfort. Deeks said she loved this doll. She wouldn't leave it, Callen."

"You know what you're saying Kens," he said sadly.

"She was in this helicopter when it crashed."

They went about the remainder of their investigation mechanically, their emotions tightly controlled. Callen caught Kensi staring off into space as they settled into the car for the drive back and he reached to squeeze her arm and then pulled his phone to call Hetty. The conversation was a short one and Callen silently nodded before ending the call.

"Hetty's at the hospital," he said. "She's going to tell Deeks and then the Walters."

"I need to be there as soon as possible," she said, her strength and resolve obvious and Callen relaxed a little, knowing Deeks wouldn't have to deal with the terrible news alone.

He was torn between the need to continue the investigation at Ops and his almost physical need to comfort Deeks. As adamant as he had been with himself about keeping his distance, he was finding it difficult. He remembered the look on Deeks' face as he'd comforted Ruthie in the arroyo after the first attempt to take her. He'd witnessed their connection and he had voiced his own feelings for Deeks because of it. He felt such a deep sadness over the loss of such a bright little girl and if he felt this bad, he couldn't even imagine the depth of Deeks' sorrow and especially that of her family.

...

...

He heard the words, but he couldn't process them. Hetty repeated them and then leaned over and softly gripped his forearm, but he continued to stare straight ahead, his mind almost electrically charged with a rage so deep he was struggling to keep from screaming. Hetty sat with him for a while and he thought he might have said something to her, but the words were all lost immediately in a fog of anger and when she left and he was alone, he gasped in shock at the loss. His right hand shook and he tightened it into a fist and stared at it as his knuckles went white and his palm screamed in pain as his nails dug into the tender flesh. He wanted to be violent, needing that release so the sorrow clawing at him had some way to escape. Escape is what he needed to do. He couldn't stay in this bed a moment longer. He had to get out of here, had to run from the softness around him, away from the comfort he didn't deserve.

He robotically took off everything attached to his body, sliding the IV needle out and then throwing the blankets aside. A nurse came in, but he didn't acknowledge her presence until she took his arm. He looked down at her hand and then at her face and he saw the fear in her eyes and realized he had taken her hand off his arm and was crushing it. He immediately let go and she stumbled away from him and left. As he dragged his clothes out of the plastic bag that had been thrown on one of the chairs he was met by a very angry doctor who began yelling at him about his treatment of the nurse, but nothing he said registered.

"I'm leaving," he managed to say.

The doctor argued against it, but he repeated himself and tore off the hospital gown and began to get dressed. He walked out of the room in a daze, signing some papers they put in front of him, before he made it to the elevator. His breathing became heavy as he rode down and an intern asked if he was okay and that actually made him laugh. He didn't think he would be okay ever again.

He didn't remember how he got to the bar, or how long he stayed or how much he drank, but he did remember the fight. He thought he had won and looked down once again at his bruised and bloody right hand. He'd been through a lot with his right hand and it had served him well in the fight. It felt like his once again, not foreign as it had after he'd gotten the cast off, but a part of him and a part of his need for vengeance. He was surprised it was dark when he dragged himself into the back of a cab and croaked out an address, sleeping until the man yelled loud enough to wake him. He threw money at the driver before he got out and stumbled up the walkway and collapsed against the door. He used his bruised right hand to pound on it until it opened, spilling him into the arms of his brother.

"Marty! Where the hell have you been? We've all been looking for you," Joe said breathlessly as he got an arm under his shoulder and half dragged him to the couch. "Did somebody beat you up? Your wound is bleeding, man."

"Ruthie's gone, Joe," he mumbled. "I let them take her and now she's gone. How do I live with that, Joe?"

"God, Marty, I'm so sorry," Joe said as he helped him lie down on the couch and yelled for Diane.

"She's still out there, Joe," he whispered as Diane began to clean the blood off his face. "I have to find her. I promised her. I told her I was the Lone Ranger and that I rescued little girls. That's what I have to do Joe. I have to rescue her."

Joe stood up and rubbed a hand down his face as he watched Deeks slowly succumb to exhaustion, still mumbling about the promises he'd made to a little girl everyone else thought was dead. But his brother couldn't allow himself to believe it and that broke his heart.

...

...


	13. Chapter 13

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 13_

...

Deeks leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, trying to will the persistent pain away, the physical as well as the emotional, but he was failing miserably. He took some shallow breaths before cursing silently and opened his bleary eyes once more to search the counter for the coffee maker. He needed coffee badly, not only for the energy, but to stop the shaking that had woken him so early. In his rush to leave the hospital, he had forgotten to fill the prescription for pain pills the irate doctor had pressed into his hands, and now he was paying the price, causing him to mumble another oath at his own stupidity. Sensing someone behind him he tried to turn, but the room tilted as he did and a groan escaped and he was forced to grip the counter to still the nauseating motion.

"Which hurts more, your shoulder or your head?" Joe asked softly from behind him.

He didn't bother to reply and kept his eyes tightly shut, listening as Joe drew some water and then set it down in front of him. He risked opening one eye and saw his brother shake out a couple of pills and put them down next to the glass.

"Kensi dropped these off last night," Joe said. "To say she's pissed at you would be sugar coating it."

Deeks fumbled for the pills and slowly savored the cool water, wondering just how long it would take before some of the pain would subside. He managed to open both eyes as Joe moved around the dimly lit kitchen making coffee, glancing over at him with a solemn look occasionally but not saying anything more. When he finished, he stood watching him.

"It's early yet," Joe said quietly. "Go on back to the couch. I'll bring you a cup of coffee when it's ready."

"Okay."

He reached out to Joe then and a strong arm wrapped around his waist and the two men walked slowly back into the living room. When Joe lowered him down, he hissed in pain and leaned back and squeezed his eyes shut until the worst of it passed.

"You want to tell me about your little excursion or should I guess?" Joe asked as he sat down in the chair across from him.

"What did Kensi say?" he asked, ignoring his brother's question.

"It's the look on her face you should be worried about," Joe said with a smile. "I think she wanted to punch you, but you were pretty beaten up already so she just stormed around the room calling you names."

"I don't remember that," he said.

"That's because you'd passed out before she and Callen got here," he said.

"Why the hell was Callen here?" he asked, his blue eyes now open, but dark with anger.

"I guess he had to see for himself that you were okay," Joe answered. "Not that you were or are."

Joe rose and went back into the kitchen to fix them a couple of cups of coffee, and Deeks took the time to feel his ribs for cracks, hitching his breath each time he hit a sore spot.

"Everyone is pretty ticked off at you, little brother," Joe said as he handed him a cup. "You left your phone at the hospital and no one could find you, not even Eric."

Deeks didn't bother to reply, intent on downing the hot coffee he needed so desperately. He wanted nothing more than to forget yesterday, but he couldn't get past the hollow sadness that enveloped him whenever his mind touched on Ruthie. His feelings of heavy guilt rode uneasily through his mind, followed by a gathering rage that felt familiar. He'd wasted an entire day giving into his sorrow and regret, but Ruthie didn't have time for him to indulge himself like that.

"Did they find her yet?" he asked, staring steadily at Joe.

"No, man, I'm sorry," Joe said gently.

"What did they find?" he asked.

"Marty, you don't have to do this now," Joe reasoned. "You need rest. You're wounded, you let yourself get beat to shit and you practically drank yourself into oblivion at whatever crappy bar you landed in."

"She's still out there somewhere, Joe," he said, staring sullenly into his coffee. "She's not dead and she expects me to rescue her and that's what I intend to do. Now, what did they find?"

"You are one stubborn shit," Joe said, shaking his head in resignation. "Okay. Let me call Callen and he can fill you in."

"No." Deeks said quickly. "I'd rather talk to Hetty or Eric. Callen made it clear how he feels about me, so I'm sure he doesn't want to be bothered."

"You're wrong, Marty," he told him. "He was worried about you. While Kensi ranted, he just sat down next to you and checked you over. He even helped Diane clean you up."

Deeks said nothing, trying to reconcile what Callen had done last night with his earlier harsh words of rejection. It confused him and now it just made him angry.

"Nothing matters except Ruthie," he said and struggled to get up. "I'll find out what's going on at Ops."

"You really think you can make it to Ops by yourself?" Joe asked with a snort of disbelief. "Let me at least call Kensi. She wanted me to let her know when you woke up. She can fill you in and you can get some rest."

"I can't rest until I find her, Joe," he said as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

Joe got to him as he swayed on his feet, pushing him back down and holding him there as he took shallow breaths, fighting the sudden flashes of pain from his shoulder and the dull throbbing in his head, the expressive reminder of just how much he'd drank the night before.

"Let the meds work before you go charging off like the Lone Ranger, okay dumbass?" Joe said, resting a firm hand at the base of his neck. "I'll even loan you one of my tee shirts, so you don't show up half naked and rattle all the women at NCIS and make Kensi jealous."

Deeks smiled tentatively at that and nodded before laying his head back on the sofa and closing his eyes. When he woke up a few hours later, Kensi was sitting in the chair across from him, her eyes piercing through him and her expression a mixture of simmering anger and concern.

"Hey Kens," he said, sitting up slowly. "Sorry you didn't get a chance to punch me last night, but calling me nasty names must have been a little fun."

"You think this is funny?" Her eyes flashed as she leaned toward him. "Did you even think to call and tell me you were checking yourself out? If you think I'm angry, wait till Hetty gets her hands on you."

"Funny? Seriously? All I could think about was how I let a little girl down," he said, his anger suddenly hot at her choice of words. "And that she might be dead because I screwed up."

"Deeks," she said, her face softening with sadness as she came to sit down next to him. She touched his face lightly with her fingertips and then brushed her thumb across the dark bruise on his cheek. She kissed him gently before sitting back and shaking her head at him.

"I'm sorry Kens. I should have called," he said, suddenly contrite and subdued, but still flushed with anger. "But I couldn't think straight and I needed to get out of there. I felt alone again, Kens, like I did when I woke up in that fuckin' cell Jürgen threw me in. I needed to get rid of some of the rage I was feeling, so I went to a bar, got stinking drunk and hit the first big sonofabitch who said something stupid."

"Why do you think you're alone in this?" Kensi asked as she took his hand in hers, absently stroking it as she searched his face.

"Because that's how I felt watching that helicopter lift off with Ruthie," he answered. "I'm the one who let her down so it's all on me, Kens. I know Callen is fed up with me, and now you and Hetty. Hell, I think Joe even wanted to kick my ass last night."

"Everyone was worried about you, Marty," Joe said as he walked in, throwing a dark tee shirt into his face. "How many ways do I have to say it?"

Deeks struggled to put on the shirt, but it was too painful to raise his arm, so he slowly got to his feet and headed for the bathroom, unwilling to look at either of them and refusing their attempts to help him. His rage was itching to get out once again and he needed to be alone in case it exploded. He was shaken at how out of control he felt and he needed that control over his emotions if he was going to find Ruthie. He grabbed the rim of the sink and fought against the doubts that skirted the edges of his anger, wanting to be certain in his belief that Ruthie was alive. He had to believe it. He needed it to be true because he couldn't function if his actions had caused that sort of horror to happen to a sweet little girl like Ruthie.

He stripped off his jeans and got in the shower, the steaming water washing away the nauseating bitter smell of beer and whiskey that still clung to him. He began to focus on all the reasons she would still be alive and the words of Preston Burke crawled into his mind and he examined them with a coldness that surprised him. He shut off the water and dried himself, pulling on his jeans as his mind searched back through the conversation he'd had with the man. He had plans for her. That was what he'd said. Preston Burke did this. He knew it beyond doubt.

He walked back out into the living room carrying Joe's shirt, his hair damp and tangled. Callen and Sam were standing next to Kensi and Joe and he hesitated as they all turned to look at him, their faces showing various shades of irritation and relief.

"You should know by now not to get your bandages wet," Sam said, obviously annoyed with him.

"I have some fresh supplies in the first aid kit," Joe said, giving Deeks a small smile of support as he left him alone with the team.

"Ruthie's alive and Preston Burke has her," he stated, watching to see who believed him.

"Deeks there's no proof of that," Callen said.

"I thought you'd say that," he replied.

"I know you don't like the guy, but she's his daughter. Why would he put her through that?" Callen reasoned.

"You just answered your own question," Deeks said. "She's his and he wants to control what's his. He took her, Callen."

Joe came back into the room and steered Deeks over to the dining room table and sat him down in a chair and slowly began to unwrap the soggy bandages from his shoulder and arm. No one said anything as Joe uncovered the ugly wound, watching uneasily as Deeks sucked in his breath and then blew it out several times as Joe worked. By the time he was bandaged back up, Deeks' face and chest were covered in a fine sheen of sweat and he was gripping the edge of the table.

"You want me to stitch up that cut over your eye?" Sam offered.

"No." Deeks whispered as he leaned back shakily in the chair. "You just want to teach me another lesson."

"You mean the one about staying in the hospital until the doctor releases you?" Sam said roughly. "Or the one about not being an idiot and getting into a bar fight the same day you're shot?"

"You've made your point," Joe growled as he moved between Sam and Deeks.

His warning heard, the others stood back as Joe helped Deeks on with the tee shirt and then eased him to his feet and guided him back to the couch.

"Marty's going to take a little nap and you guys are going to work," Joe said firmly. "You can come back at the end of the day with a couple of pizzas and all the information you have to share, but until then, leave him alone. We clear?"

No one argued because the look on Joe's face and the tone of his voice was the same one they'd all seen and heard on their mission to rescue Deeks in South Africa. He was in his big brother protective stance and even Sam respected that. Kensi started to protest, but Callen took her arm and pulled her toward the door, his face full of regret as he looked past Joe to stare wistfully at Deeks, before pushing the others toward the door. Joe closed it solidly behind them and turned to see Deeks watching him with a slight grin.

"What?" Joe asked.

"Never seen anyone shut Sam up like that," he said quietly. "Not even Callen."

"Like I said before, I'm the only one allowed to kick your ass, little brother," he said lightly. "Now lie down and get some sleep."

"Do you believe me, Joe?" he asked softly.

As Deeks slowly stretched out on the couch, Joe sat down on the table in front of him and ran his hands up and down the legs of his jeans a few times before looking into the vulnerable eyes of the man he cared so deeply about. He swallowed hard and then looked down at his hands, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Deeks turn his head toward the back of the couch and he reached out and rested his hand gently on his arm.

"I know what you're feeling, Marty," Joe said. "I know because it's how I felt when Elan told me you'd been killed. I know why you went to that bar and why you needed to beat the crap out of somebody. After Chris was killed in Afghanistan, I did the same thing you did, but I wrecked the bar I landed in and I knocked Elan down twice after he told me everyone believed you were dead. I was just lucky he didn't retaliate."

"The big sucker I hit wasn't that nice," Deeks said, his eyes now fixed on Joe.

"I was so angry with you back then." Joe stood quickly and walked over to stare out the front window, his face turned away from Deeks. "You promised me, remember? You said you would take care of yourself, but you didn't."

"You're still mad at me," Deeks said sadly, sitting up and rubbing his hand over his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not mad at you, Marty," Joe said. "Not after everything that happened. Watching you make it all the way back the way you have..."

"Joe?" Deeks got up when he saw his brother struggling to finish his thought. He walked over to stand behind him; silently waiting for whatever he needed to say.

"You're a strong man Marty and I'm proud of you," he said huskily. "We all thought you were dead back then, but we were wrong. So maybe everybody's wrong about Ruthie, too."

He turned to face Deeks and then hugged him fiercely before pushing him back and holding him at arm's length.

"If you believe that little girl is alive, then I believe you'll find her," Joe said.

"Thanks, Brother," Deeks murmured as his energy suddenly waned and his knees buckled.

Joe quickly wrapped an arm around him and helped him to the couch and sat with him until he was snoring softly.

"I hope you're right, Marty," he said quietly. "God, for your sake, I hope you're right."

...

...

Hetty had always been adept at reading body language and her eyes narrowed as she watched Callen walk slowly into the bullpen behind Kensi and Sam. His shoulders sagged as if carrying a great weight and his mouth drooped downward at the corners, the one small tell he had that something emotional was seriously affecting him. She understood the internal battle he was fighting, perhaps more than he did, having fought similar ones throughout her own life. He had always desperately wanted family but had no experience with the costs those close ties could sometimes lay on you. He had been caught off guard by the strong emotions his growing attachment to Mr. Deeks had revealed, unsure now whether to accept them or to fight them, constantly in turmoil over which way to go.

The aloofness he always prided himself on had virtually disappeared when Deeks did. He had angrily yelled at Eric when the poor tech couldn't find him yesterday and he had even snapped at her when she'd tried to reason with him. None of them had been impervious to the emotions his unexpected disappearance had caused, each one reliving the desperation they'd all felt last year when they thought they had lost him. When Joe had called to let them know he was safe, Sam exploded in noisy anger when he found out Deeks had just gone out and gotten drunk. He had threatened to knock some sense into him until he found out someone had already beaten him up. Kensi and Callen had immediately left to go to Joe's house to check on him, while Sam said he wasn't sure what he would say to him so decided to just go home. She herself had simply taken out a good bottle of scotch and gone up to Ops with three glasses, breaking her own rule and allowing Nell and Eric the relief they deserved.

Now that the team had seen him, they looked calmer, but wary of what might come next. The whole team seemed out of balance and she needed to find a way to overcome that.

"Mr. Callen? How's he doing this morning," she said as she walked quietly into the bullpen.

"He believes Ruthie is still alive," he replied. "And he thinks Preston Burke has her."

"Why in the world would he think that?" Hetty was stunned by whole idea.

"He has no proof, just a gut feeling, I think," Callen said. "We need to convince him he's wrong before he does something stupid."

"You mean more stupid than yesterday?" Sam said grumpily.

"Has anyone seen Burke since the firefight?" Kensi asked, glaring briefly at Sam.

"Yes. I spoke with him yesterday at the hospital," Hetty answered. "When I told him about the doll and our conclusion that Ruthie had probably died in the crash he asked me very coldly if I was certain and then seemed to accept it, but I could sense his anger. He kept very tight control of his emotions until he mentioned Mr. Deeks. He told me that he blames him and was absolutely furious when he said it."

"What did he have to say about his own man Ross? He's the one who took Ruthie," Sam said. "That's who he should be angry at."

"His reaction to Mr. Ross' death was quite interesting," Hetty said. "He actually smiled. He seemed quite pleased by it and not squeamish at all about the fact the man had been shot in the head."

"Now the question becomes, who shot him?" Callen said thoughtfully. "Someone other than the pilots had to have been on board."

"So we're looking for another body," Sam reasoned.

"How are the Walters doing, Hetty?" Kensi asked.

"Sandra Walters is still critical and sedated," she answered. "Paul Walters was inconsolable. I think we might want to reunite him with his other two children."

The team was silent for a few moments until interrupted by Nell and Eric, who came into the bullpen with tablets ready.

"We have news about the other pilot," Nell started out quickly. "His body was found further down the coast of Santa Rosa Island and was badly cut up. The MEs think it might have been run over by a boat."

"So everyone we know of on the helo has been accounted for except for Ruthie and whoever shot Ross," Sam stated.

"Have they found the cause of the crash?" Callen asked.

"Not yet," Eric said. "Also, no way to tell exactly when it crashed yet either. I'm still going through ship chatter during the time frame."

"Anything else?" Callen asked.

Nell and Eric exchanged looks, alerting the others that whatever they were about to tell them was not going to make them happy.

"Malcolm Webb, Burke's head of security, was released yesterday afternoon," Nell said nervously.

"How the hell did he get out?" Callen snapped. "He assaulted a federal agent."

"Preston Burke's attorney got a federal judge to dismiss the charges," she answered.

"On what grounds?" Hetty asked.

"Not sure, but I'll find out," she answered.

"Do you have any good news?" Sam glowered as he slumped down in his chair.

"Facial Rec got a hit on one of the men who shot Paul Walters," Eric said, as photos flashed across the screen. "His name is Hamid Shahpur. He's supposedly an Iranian businessman who has been on the CIA watch list for a couple of years. He's believed to have ties to the Iranian government, but no one can prove it. He is suspected to have been involved in several illegal arms deals, but nothing on this scale before."

"And the other guy?" Callen asked sharply.

"We're checking Hamid Shahpur's known associates," Eric said.

"So you haven't found them yet," Sam said and Eric and Nell both shook their heads no.

"Does Shahpur have any connection to Preston Burke?" Kensi asked.

"The only thing they have in common that I can find, is that they both have offices in Dubai," Eric said.

"Do any of you believe Mr. Deeks theory?" Hetty asked.

"I don't, but unless we can convince him, he won't let it go," Callen said. "The two have been at each other's throats since they met. Deeks never trusted him and Burke didn't want Deeks anywhere near Ruthie."

"Do you think he might confront Mr. Burke about his suspicions?" Hetty asked.

"He's dealing with a lot of rage about Ruthie. He compared it to his time with Jürgen." Kensi shared. "He can't let himself believe she's gone Hetty."

"Nell, see if you can come up with any connections between Preston Burke and any of the men involved," Hetty instructed. "We'll need solid evidence if we are to convince Mr. Deeks one way or the other."

Everyone but Callen went back to work. He seemed distracted and Hetty noticed.

"Mr. Callen, a word," she said and he followed her back to her desk.

She left him alone as she prepared a pot of tea, glancing at him once in a while as she worked. He looked exhausted and it was still early in the morning, so she suspected he had gotten even less sleep than usual.

"You're concerned about him," Hetty finally said as she passed him a delicate cup of her favorite tea.

"He's in denial," he answered wearily. "And he's hurting, but that won't stop him if he decides he's right and from what he said I think he's already made that decision. The only person he's listening to right now is Joe."

"He's lucky to have Joe," Hetty said softly. "He needs someone on his side right now."

"We're all on his side, Hetty. Why can't he see that?" Callen said with a hint of anger. "But when he started in about Ruthie being alive and Burke having somehow concocted this wild scheme to steal her away, someone had to call him on it."

"And that someone was you," Hetty said. "It hurt you to do that I suppose."

"He threw the idea down like a challenge," he responded. "It was as if he was testing our loyalty, like we're either for him or against him."

"Sounds like someone I know, Mr. Callen," she said with a small enigmatic smile.

Callen shot her an exasperated look and remained silent, slowly finishing his tea.

"He's got a lot of anger, and he doesn't know how to control it," Callen mused quietly. "I know how that feels, Hetty. But, I don't think he'll listen to me now. I pushed him away and I think that hurt him. I could see it in his eyes. He thinks he's alone in this and that could get him in trouble."

"Yes Nell?" Hetty called out, noticing the analyst quietly waiting just outside her office space.

"Preston Burke is gone," she said.

"When and where, Miss Jones?" Hetty asked as she exchanged guarded looks with her senior agent.

"He flew out late last night on his corporate jet," she said, clutching her tablet tightly. "Flight plans have him making a stopover in San Francisco on his way to his final destination. Paris."

"Is that all, Nell?" Callen asked.

"Malcolm Webb was with him," she said.

"There's no reason for him to stay here now that Ruthie is dead," Hetty commented. "But I doubt Mr. Deeks will see it that way."

"No, he won't," Callen said knowingly. "It's only going fuel his distrust of the man."

"You need to talk to him, Mr. Callen," she said. "You need to reconnect with him and find out what he's thinking. Let him know you're on his side. He'll need your counsel. You need to be the voice of reason to help him through this. Can you do that Mr. Callen? Can you put aside your fears and forge a bond with him again?"

"I can try," he answered. "If he'll let me."

...

...


	14. Chapter 14

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 14_

...

He sought out the sound of crying. As it grew louder, the soft staccato of hiccupping reminded him of Ruthie and he felt drawn to offer some comfort, needing to for some deep reason he couldn't quite grasp. He heard Diane talking sweetly to her son, soothing whatever fear had caused him to cry out and he paused, afraid to interrupt such a personal moment. He couldn't help but watch though, instantly fascinated by the scene he was witnessing, curious about how words the child couldn't understand still somehow managed to calm him. Diane turned to look at him as she cradled the baby and she smiled and beckoned him inside the room. He hesitated only for a moment before coming to her side and looking down into the teary eyes of his nephew and he couldn't keep the smile from his face no matter how sad he truly was.

"Want to hold him?" she asked.

"He'll probably start crying again," he answered, feeling shy about holding the child.

"Don't take it personally," she laughed. "He probably just has to poop."

"Great, thanks," he laughed in return. "Give the little stinker to Uncle Marty. Is that the plan?"

"Just be thankful I won't make you change him if he does," she said as she handed her son over to him.

"Hey Stinky Butt," Deeks whispered as he brought the little boy up to his face and kissed the top of his head.

"That name better not stick, or Joe will kill you," Diane said.

"What nicknames does he use?" Deeks asked as Chris's little fingers grabbed unto his hair.

"He calls him Goofball sometimes," Diane answered.

"That's what he used to call me," Deeks said softly. "Don't worry, Little Chris, he says it with love. At least he does to you. I think he believes it's true about me."

"You scared him, Marty," she said softly, taking the baby back as a telltale smell wafted up between them.

She stepped away and quickly began changing the baby, her back to him. He wasn't sure what to say, knowing his actions had caused concern for the people he cared about.

"I wish everybody would just stop treating me like I'm Chris's age," he said, suddenly bitter.

"He's not over what happened to you, Marty," she said softly. "None of them are. Can't you see that? I heard you all talking this morning. They say angry things because they don't know how to deal with their feelings for you."

"Joe doesn't act that way," he said.

"Joe has never been afraid to love you," she said. "I could see it the first time I watched you two together at the ranch. He was like a kid with a favorite new toy and couldn't believe he was so lucky. You filled a void in his life and in George's life. You were like water to a thirsty plant. They both needed you in order to be healthy again. Letting them love you was your gift to them."

"I'm the lucky one," he reflected, smiling shyly as warm memories flashed across his mind.

"Don't push your friends away, Marty," she cautioned. "If they didn't care they wouldn't have bothered to come and see how you were. You know that."

"They're all pretty mad at me," he said.

"You disappeared," She replied, giving him an exasperated glare. "How would you have felt if Joe had just disappeared, or Kensi? You'd have done what Joe did, look every place he could think of. He went to every surfing spot you ever mentioned and he and Callen almost came to blows, they were so worried. Don't you get it? Don't you understand how much you've come to mean to those two men? They're even jealous of each other when it comes to you."

"Bullshit," he said without hesitation.

"Marty Deeks you really are a dumbass if you can't see the truth of what I just said," standing tall as she spoke.

"Callen cares, but he thinks of it as babysitting and that pisses me off," he said angrily.

"No. He wants to love you, he just doesn't know how to do that," she said. "Men can be so damn dense sometimes. What the hell are you all so afraid of? Is it some sort of threat to your masculinity?"

She carried Chris out into the living room and headed for the kitchen. Deeks could tell she was angry and frustrated with him, but it made him smile anyway, remembering how he could see she was in love with Joe before he did.

"Do you think George is any less of a man because he tells you he loves you?" Diane asked as she turned and handed him the baby.

"I didn't think you were finished," smiling his crooked grin, hoping it might slow her down.

"You and Callen have been on your own for too long," she said. "You think it makes you stronger to do things on your own, but it doesn't. Why do you think you have a team? Because you're stronger together and you protect each other because you care for each other like brothers."

"I don't think of Kensi as a brother," he said with a laugh.

"And you're not afraid to tell her you love her, are you?" she asked, her eyes flashing and surprising him.

"No," he replied softly, looking down at the little boy in his arms. "But she's a little bit afraid to hear it."

Di looked at him thoughtfully then and gently squeezed his hand.

"Once you and Joe fell in love you never looked back or questioned your feelings," Deeks said as he stared at the baby. "And look what you got, a beautiful little boy and a future together as a family. I'm not sure that's in the cards for Kensi and me."

"Don't say that Marty," she said.

"When I met Ruthie I was blown away," he said quietly. "She reminded me so much of Kensi and I wanted to have one just like her. Now I've lost her and I'm afraid if I don't get her back I'll lose part of myself too. She was so full of fire, she deserves to be alive."

He choked on his final words and quickly passed the baby back into his mother's arms and hurriedly left the room.

...

...

Callen fired another round into the flimsy paper target, hoping the sound and the gun's recoil against the palm of his hand would snap him out of his funk. The repetitive process of firing his gun at a stationary target had always helped him focus on what was bugging him, and right now there were a lot of things that were unsettling. When the clip was empty, he pulled it and rammed in another, realizing he did it in anger and that made him pause. Then the questions began to crush in on him and he lifted the pistol and rapidly fired at the same target, shredding it. Slamming the empty gun down, he found himself breathing hard and silently cursing. Why had he left Deeks with the impression that he wasn't on his side? Why hadn't he or any of the others even taken into consideration that he could be right? They hadn't recovered Ruthie's body and had only circumstantial evidence that she was dead, so why was it so farfetched to entertain the possibility she was alive. Deeks seemed to have no doubt and all of them had just dismissed his idea out of hand, rejecting not only his theory, but also the man himself, hurting him in the process.

"Something you want to talk about?" Sam asked as he stepped up behind him.

"Remember how quick we were to accept all of Granger's clues that Deeks was dead?" Callen asked.

"Don't remind me," Sam said softly. "I still haven't forgiven myself. Why are you thinking about that?"

"Because it was an error I never should have made," Callen answered. "Even though the photographic evidence was convincing, we never stepped back and considered any other scenarios. We took the evidence at face value, never digging deeper and never considering Deeks' earlier opinion. He didn't believe the evidence back then that Proczko killed his own family and he doesn't believe the evidence now. So why don't we believe him that Ruthie is alive? What makes us so sure we're right and he's wrong?"

"You think we should look at the evidence again," Sam said quietly.

"Maybe we missed something," Callen said. "Things have been happening fast on this case and I don't think I've had my head in the game like I should."

"I think we've all just been so worried about Deeks being back in the field for the first time," Sam reasoned. "Him getting shot shook us all up."

"It distracted me," Callen admitted. "And I've been so afraid of getting too close to him that I pushed him away. I thought that would help me concentrate on the case but it didn't, it just made me discount whatever he had to say like some sort of defense mechanism."

"You're not the only one, G," Sam said. "None of us spoke up when he asked if we believed him."

"Why is that, Sam?" Callen asked. "Maybe we have to quit thinking of him as that broken man lying in the snow. We just need to remind ourselves that he's a full-fledged member of this team again. He's fought his way back, but we've never quite believed he's okay now."

"Or treated him that way, either," Sam agreed.

"We need to show him, Sam. Words won't be enough," Callen said. "Especially after what I said to him in the hospital."

"Yeah, dumb move, partner," Sam said. "I bet Joe's still pissed about that."

"You noticed, huh?"

"You mean because he was ready to pound you into the ground yesterday after we showed up at the FBI?" Sam laughed. "You're lucky I was there."

"What? You don't think I could have taken him?" Callen smirked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"I think he was ready to take both of us down when you told him Deeks had disappeared," Sam answered. "Deeks is his little brother now, G."

Callen became introspective at that and he saw the curious look on Sam's face, so he turned away and secured his weapon.

"A man can have more than one brother, G," Sam said, laughing as he walked out of the room.

Callen was touched by the truth of his comment. He remembered the twinge of longing he'd felt when Deeks had introduced Joe Atwood as his brother at one of Hetty's get-togethers. He didn't want to admit that he had been a little envious of their connection, but always pushing that feeling aside as ridiculous. Now, he wasn't so sure. He'd felt a touch of it this morning when he saw how protective Joe was of Deeks and how kind and gentle he had been as he bandaged his wound. He hadn't been self-conscious about it; he had just taken care of his brother as if it was the only thing that mattered. He'd even stood up to Sam and made him back down and that was not easy to do. Deeks had gone to the one person he knew would support him no matter what and that made Callen realize just how far away he had pushed him and how little he knew about being a true brother. His guarded fears had held him back, but now he realized he had nothing to lose. Deeks may not think of him as a brother, but he was still a good friend and a team mate and Callen knew he could help him find what he needed the most, the truth about Ruthie.

He walked purposely up to Hetty's desk and stopped and said nothing, his mind and his heart one for a change. She rose and poured him a cup of tea and silently motioned him to sit and he did, calmer than he'd been since Deeks had been assigned to this case.

"I'm going to proceed on the assumption that Deeks is right, that Ruthie is alive," he said, tossing the idea out and letting it float between the two of them. "We'll dig deeper into Preston Burke and look at all the angles and connections and if the evidence doesn't support his belief then we'll have done everything we could and have no regrets."

"And if he's right?"

"Then we might need a bigger budget," he said with a smile. "How expensive is Paris this time of year?"

"For you or for me?" she asked.

Callen just smiled and set the delicate teacup down on Hetty's desk and got up and headed up stairs to join Sam and Kensi in Ops. The anxiousness he had displayed yesterday had vanished and Nell and Eric slowly relaxed as he shared his idea with the team. No one questioned him, all looking relieved by his calm direction.

"I want everything you can find on the two dead pilots, including tox screens on the bodies," Callen directed the two techs. "Look for any connection to Preston Burke or his companies. Same with Millard Shaw, Paul Walters' co-worker."

"I found out the money deposited into Millard Shaw's account came from a company controlled by Hamid Shahpur," Nell interrupted. "Shaw was deeply in debt, but I have no idea how he and Shahpur connected in the first place."

"Have you found anything that connects Shahpur and Burke other than they both have offices in Dubai?" Callen asked.

"No, but I do have a little surprise," Eric stated with a flourish.

He quickly turned his chair toward the big screen as a muddled video began playing. The black helicopter moved silently across the screen in the dim morning light and then suddenly shuddered and began to drop, crashing hard into the dark waters and floating briefly before the sea swallowed it. There was no sign of anyone afterwards, the image blurring as the camera began moving erratically and they heard one softly spoken word–"Shit"–and then it was over.

"You found a witness?" Callen said.

"Found this on YouTube if you can believe it," he said proudly. "I'm still tracking down who posted it, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"It looks like it was shot from one of the islands or maybe from a boat," Sam said.

"Rerun it Eric," Kensi said, moving closer to the screen as the short piece of video ran through its sequence again. "Pause it. That's a cargo ship in the background and a couple of yachts. Maybe someone on board saw something."

"I'll try tracking them down," Eric said.

"I've got something guys," Nell alerted them. "The helicopter was rented by none other than our former French Gendarmerie Gerrard Duval, the attack leader. The pilots were part of Duval's unit and were former French military. And before you ask, I've found no connection between Duval and Preston Burke."

"What about to Malcolm Webb?" Callen asked.

"Burke's security guy. I will check that out," Nell said and began rapidly typing.

"And check out Ross," Sam ordered. "We need to know who he was taking his orders from, Duval or Burke. If it was Duval, then who shot him and why?"

"And if he kidnapped Ruthie for Burke, why shoot him at all?" Callen questioned. "Hetty said Burke seemed happy that Ross was dead."

"And when was he shot?" Kensi asked. "We didn't see anyone get out of that chopper after impact."

"Maybe the shooter shot him right before something went wrong," Callen speculated. "Or there was a gunfight on board and one of the shots hit something that caused the helo to crash. Whoever the shooter was, his body may still wash up on shore somewhere."

While Eric and Nell researched, Callen and the team stood staring blankly at the frozen image on the screen. The helo had hit the water at a high rate of speed, slowly turning as it dropped and had broken slightly apart on impact. It had sunk rapidly and anyone inside would have had a hard time escaping, especially a little girl.

"Where were they going?" Callen wondered aloud.

"Eric, can you determine what time this video was shot?" Kensi asked.

"5:03 am," he replied.

"I got to Burke's place just after three in the morning," Callen said sharply. "They had to have stopped someplace. No way it took two hours to fly from Bel Air to the Channel Islands."

"But where?" Sam asked, shaking his head in frustration.

"Ross might have been shot wherever it stopped," Kensi said. "But why leave him in the chopper?"

"Maybe they were gonna dump his body out at sea," Sam answered.

"He was a loose end, just like Paul's co-worker, Millard Shaw," Callen reasoned. "The real question is whether Ruthie was taken off the helo at that stage."

"So Shahpur paid Millard Shaw for information about Paul Walters and then hired Gerrard Duval and his crew to go after Walters and his family in order to get his research," Kensi recapped. "So how does Preston Burke get in the middle of all this? It doesn't make sense."

"Unless Burke was involved the whole time," Callen said quietly.

"Now you sound like Deeks," Sam said with a smirk. "We have no proof, G. There is still no evidence to tie him to Ruthie's abduction."

"I know," he said dejectedly.

"Ross is the closest connection to Preston Burke we have," Nell said quietly. "We'll keep looking for more for Deeks' sake."

"Let us know when you find something," Callen responded as the team headed for the door.

...

...

Kensi and Callen carried the pizza boxes toward the house, barely making it half way to the front door before Joe came out and shushed them, leading them to the driveway and along the side of the house to the backyard. They followed him to a patio in the back garden, softly lit and comfortably furnished with teak chairs and a table that was already set for dinner.

"He's sleeping," Joe said as he handed out bottles of beer.

"How's he doing?" Kensi asked softly.

"He's moody," Joe answered. "He goes from being sad to angry in a split second. The baby is the only one able to distract him. I had to forcibly stop him from going over to Burke's office a few hours ago."

"He wouldn't have found him," Callen said as he slumped into a chair. "He's in Paris."

The two were silent as they waited for Joe's reaction.

"Shit! Marty's gonna freak," Joe said angrily.

"About what?" Deeks asked as he walked across the grass in bare feet.

Kensi got up and moved to intercept him, stepping in close and wrapping an arm around his waist as she reached up to push his disheveled hair out of his eyes. He looked at her, his jaw rippling with tension and his eyes dark and questioning.

"Tell me, Kens," he said huskily.

"Burke flew to Paris last night," she said calmly. "And he took Malcolm Webb with him."

Deeks didn't say anything. He looked over at Callen, staring at him for the longest time, raw emotion burning in his turbulent blue eyes as the muscles of his jaw continued to flex under his skin. He stepped out of Kensi's grasp, shrugging off her attempts to hold onto his arm as he turned back toward the house. Callen rose quickly and walked past Kensi and reached for him. Deeks turned and hit him, opening a cut on his cheek and before anyone could say anything, Callen hit him back, knocking him to the ground and Joe exploded in anger.

"What the fuck?" He shouted as he grabbed Callen's shoulder, turning him around roughly and hitting him solidly in the mouth, causing blood to spatter down his shirt. Callen charged him and the two men grappled with each other, Joe shouting curses as Callen struggled to get the upper hand.

Deeks sat stunned on the grass, a hand pressed over his rapidly swelling eye as Kensi knelt down next to him.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" Diane shouted, as she stood just outside the back door holding a large bowl of salad in her hands. "You're acting like overgrown teenagers instead of federal agents. You might as well be brothers; you sure as hell act like mine. If you wake the baby, you're each taking turns trying to get him to stop crying. Now if you're got all that piss out of your system and are done being idiots, someone help Deeks up and Joe, you can go get the first aid kit. The pizza's probably cold by now and it serves you right."

She continued to berate them and order them around and they sheepishly did as she said. Callen pulled Deeks' hand away from his swollen, blackening eye and apologized, while Joe stood awkwardly close to his wife trying to placate her. She just shook her head and ordered them to shut up and eat while she tended to Deeks' second black eye.

"Sorry, G," Deeks said. "Didn't expect you to hit me back though."

"You told me not to baby you," Callen said as he shoved a cold slice of pizza into his mouth, wincing at the sting from the cut on his busted lip. "Besides, your big brother here seems to have your back."

"FBI guys don't take shit from anybody," Joe said seriously, causing Callen and Deeks to both laugh and point at Diane.

"I'm not dishing out shit," she argued sharply. "I'm just reminding you that you're all on the same side and that you're family."

Her comment silenced them for a while and the dinner was quickly polished off, as were several beers. Callen took a beer away from Deeks and when he protested, Joe and Callen joined together to remind him he was on pain meds.

"They're ganging up on me Kens," he said, looking for support and finding none.

Diane headed back into the house when the baby began to cry and the others finally got serious about why they were there.

"Deeks, we're looking into all of the people involved in Ruthie's disappearance," Kensi told him. "And if there's a connection to Preston Burke, we'll find it."

"We're going with your assumption that she's still alive," Callen said intensely as he looked at Deeks. "I shouldn't have dismissed you so quickly without checking things out."

"How did Webb get out?" Deeks asked. "You let him hit me so the charges would keep him locked up."

"The federal judge who released him is an old friend of Burke's family," Kensi said. "His attorney claimed it was an inadvertent response after you accidentally knocked him in the pool."

Deeks let a slow grin briefly spread across his face, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by a touch of sullen anger no one missed.

"So, no sign of Ruthie?" he asked.

"No. And so far we have no evidence he had anything to do with the attack on the house," Callen told him, his voice hesitant.

"But Ross worked for him and helped me kill two of the attackers," Deeks said quickly. "Why would he do that if he was working with them?"

"To convince you he could be trusted," Joe reasoned.

"Deeks, the men flying that helicopter were part of Duval's team," Kensi said.

"I don't care. Burke has her, so she must be in Paris," Deeks said angrily. "And if she is, that's where I'm going."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Callen cautioned. "Eric and Nell are still looking at everything. There are a lot of questions to be answered before we all fly off to Paris."

"You would go with me to Paris?" Deeks asked, looking slightly surprised by Callen's comment.

"We're a team, Deeks," Callen said. "But right now you're not in any shape to go anywhere."

"Try stopping me," he growled.

The ringing of Callen's cell phone interrupted his response and Kensi slowly rubbed Deeks' back trying to calm his simmering anger as Callen answered. His features hardened and his eyes narrowed as he listened, saying nothing throughout.

"I'm coming in, Eric," Callen said before ending the call.

"Remember that cargo ship in the video, Kens?" Callen asked. "That ship belongs to Preston Burke's company."

"Wait! What video?" Deeks asked quickly.

"Eric found a video of the helo crash and there were ships in the background," Kensi told him.

"That particular ship has a helipad," Callen said. "And its destination was the Port of Oakland, just across the bay from San Francisco, which was the first stop on Preston Burke's flight plan."

"Somebody want to fill me in here," Deeks said roughly.

"The video shows the crash happened two hours after Ruthie was taken," Kensi explained. "If she wasn't on the chopper when it crashed, then they had plenty of time to drop her off somewhere. Until now, we had no clue as to where that might be."

"The fact that a cargo ship belonging to Preston Burke was in the vicinity and equipped with a helipad gives us reason to believe that's where she may have been taken," Callen said quietly. "Burke could have picked her up from the ship when it docked in Oakland and then flown her to Paris on his private jet."

"That sonofabitch," Deeks shouted and pushed himself out of his chair and walked off into a dark corner of the garden and Kensi quickly followed.

"They'll be no holding him here now, if that's true," Joe said.

"Yeah, but we still have questions and we still have to prove that's what happened," Callen said. "There's a lot of research to be done and that should give us a couple of days. Hetty might not even let him go to Paris, considering his physical condition."

"Callen, he cares very deeply about that little girl and he made promises to her he is bound and determined to keep," Joe said earnestly. "He won't ask permission."

"You're his brother. He'll listen to you," Callen said.

"You've never had a brother have you?"

"No."

"My older brother Chris was killed in Afghanistan, and he went even though I tried to talk him out of it," Joe said softly. "Marty's a lot like Chris. He's stubborn and determined and he's going to do what he thinks is right, no matter the cost."

"I know."

"You may not be his brother, Callen," Joe said, staring intently into the other man's eyes. "But Marty thinks of you as one whether he's told you that or not. So, I'm asking you to watch out for him over there."

"You don't have to ask."

...

...


	15. Chapter 15

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 15_

...

Deeks' long slender fingers drummed repeatedly on the surface of the central table in Ops, his eyes searching the photograph on the big screen, his jaw tight. He had come into work despite everyone's attempts to keep him away. Joe had argued with him all through breakfast, but had finally agreed to drop him off at the Mission if he promised not to do too much and tire himself out. Deeks had just smiled at him, pissing him off even more, so on the drive in he'd had to listen to all the reasons it was too soon for him to go back to work. Joe had come in with him and Deeks had seen him talking with Callen before he left, making him wonder how the two had gotten so cozy over the last couple of days. The team seemed to take turns watching him closely and it had started to bug him, reminding him of what life had been like when he'd first come back to LA after leaving the hospital in Wyoming. He'd finally just come upstairs to hang out with the techies, who after a quick hug from Nell, totally ignored him. When the photo of the military unit flashed up on the big screen, Deeks felt nothing but raw anger.

"Where was this taken, Eric?" he asked.

"Afghanistan."

The sliding doors parted and the team streamed in, followed by Hetty. Kensi came to stand next to him, nudging him with her hip as her warm hand rubbed slowly up and down his back causing him to turn from the screen and look at her. Her eyes gleamed softly in the muted blue light in Ops and he was touched by the concern and understanding he saw there. The rhythmic motion of her hand slowly began to ease some of the tension in his muscles.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"No."

"Mr. Beale," Hetty said.

"This is a classified photo of a special ops team taken in Afghanistan right after 9/11 during the first search for Osama Bin Laden," he said as he walked over to the screen and circled the faces of two men.

"The man on the left is Malcolm Webb," he continued. "And the man standing behind him is Edward Ross."

"The guy who took Ruthie," Deeks finished.

"They've known each other a long time," Callen said softly.

"Not only that," Nell added. "Malcolm Webb saved Ross' life during that mission. Ross was badly wounded and spent almost a year rehabbing. They didn't reconnect until Webb hired him as part of Preston Burke's security team three years ago."

"They must have kept in touch," Sam said. "What was Ross doing before Webb hired him?"

"He was a mercenary," Eric said, pulling up another photo and enlarging it until it filled the screen.

"That looks like a surveillance photo," Sam commented.

"Bingo!' Eric said with a smile. "It was taken in the Sudan in 2008. That's Ross and the man he's handing the weapon to is none other than Gerrard Duval, our dead Frenchman."

"Why didn't we know this before?" Deeks snapped. "I thought you vetted this guy."

"I'm sorry, Deeks," Eric said, unable to look at him.

"The information was highly classified, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said. "I had to call in a few favors before Eric and Nell were given access. But now that we do know, we have our connection. Ross knew two of the major players, but that doesn't necessarily mean that Preston Burke was involved. Ross could have been working for Duval on the side and paid off by Hamid Shahpur in his attempt to get Paul Walters' research."

"Any sign of Shahpur?" Callen asked.

"We have no idea where he is," Nell answered.

"Nell, check with the CIA," Hetty directed. "If Shahpur is working with the Iranian government then that's where he'll end up eventually."

"We still don't have an explanation as to how Shahpur knew about Paul Walter's research," Callen said.

"Preston Burke," Deeks said. "Walters and Burke have been getting together for almost a year. You can't tell me it isn't possible that Walters let something slip about what he was working on. What if Burke passed that info onto Shahpur?"

"That's all supposition, Deeks," Sam said.

"Isn't that what we do?" Deeks asked. "I'm telling you, he's taken Ruthie to Paris, and Malcolm Webb's his guard dog."

"We'll need more before I can authorize a mission to Paris," Hetty was solemn as she made the pronouncement and they all saw Deeks stiffen.

"So, we're just gonna let a frightened little girl stay with a man who had our agents killed and tried to kill both of her parents?" Deeks' voice was trembling as he spoke, staring down Hetty with a fierceness they'd never seen before.

"No Mr. Deeks," Hetty said kindly. "But this concerns the sovereignty of France and I need to be able to give them more than supposition that a highly regarded CEO of a multinational corporation with offices there and ties to their government has committed murder, is involved in espionage and has kidnapped a child."

"He's a prick," Deeks said.

"I don't think the French government will accept that as proof, Mr. Deeks," she answered, smiling tightly. "No matter how true it may be."

Deeks saw no humor in her reply and quickly turned away from them all and walked out of Ops. Kensi followed him out and caught up with him in the bullpen. She came up behind him as he stood leaning against his desk, wrapping her arms around him and holding him as he physically shook with anger.

"We'll get her back," she said.

"Everyone keeps saying that, but nobody does anything to actually do it," he said.

"Trust us, Deeks," she said, pulling him around to face her and tenderly caressing his cheek. She leaned into him and he closed his eyes, comforted by her scent and the warmth of her body, unable to stop himself from drawing her tightly to him. He dropped his head to her shoulder, his face buried in the silken curls of her hair as he let all his raw emotions drain slowly out. It was unusual for them to embrace this intimately at work, but neither one seemed to care.

"It's been almost four days since she was taken," he said, his voice breathless as he clung to her. "I know what she's going through Kens. I know exactly what she's been feeling every second of every day she's been gone. Alone and afraid, not knowing where you are or if anyone's coming to rescue you. Those first few days were hell for me, and she's just a little girl. God, Kensi, how could he put his own daughter through that kind of trauma? What sort of man does that?"

"She's a tough little girl," Kensi said, as she stepped back and put both hands on his chest. "She saved your life, so I owe her and I will do whatever it takes to help you get her back. That's a promise, Deeks."

"I've made too many of those lately," he said abruptly. "And I haven't kept any of them."

He stepped away from her then and headed for the gun range, his anger troubling and needing release. He fired at target after target until he felt his hand begin to shake and the painful throbbing in his left shoulder made him stop. As he secured all the equipment he heard the door open and turned to see Hetty standing quietly in front of him.

"I hope you know I'm on your side, Mr. Deeks," she said kindly.

He said nothing, afraid of what might come out of his mouth. His silence seemed to unsettle her and she moved up close to him and put her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently as she searched his face. He wasn't sure what to say or do, so he remained silent.

"You made us all believe you, Mr. Deeks," she said. "We owe you that."

"You don't owe me anything, Hetty," finally finding the courage to speak.

"Don't I?" She stepped back and looked solemnly over at the black and white paper targets hanging starkly against the far wall. "I spent a lot of time in here after Jürgen was killed and you were recovering. I thought it would help me come to terms with my anger over failing you. All it did was make me a better marksman, but it relieved none of my guilt."

"Guilt over what, Hetty?" he asked innocently.

"We made promises too, Mr. Deeks," she said softly. "Ones we failed to keep. Mr. Callen believes you have forgiven us, but I still hold onto my guilt, so I know what you're feeling."

"You didn't hire Jürgen," he said quickly. "Please, just let it go. I need to put that time behind me, and if you or Callen or any of the others hold onto guilt over what happened to me I'll never get past it. I don't want to see that in your eyes every time you look at me."

"And we don't want to see the guilt in your eyes over what happened to Ruthie," she told him firmly as she turned to stare at him.

He couldn't look at her, knowing he was holding his guilt close, unable to free himself of it, unwilling to let himself off the hook for what had happened.

"You see Mr. Deeks, we are not so different, you and me," she said gently. "We hold ourselves to a very high standard and when we make promises we cannot keep we offer no excuses and accept none. What we cannot allow ourselves to do is to let that guilt hinder our response. We must not let it cloud our minds. Can you do that Mr. Deeks?"

"If you let me go to Paris," he said. "I know she's there and I don't know how much longer I can stand by and do nothing."

"You are not alone on this. You know that don't you?" she said. "Please don't do something foolish again and go off on your own. I thought Mr. Callen was going to throttle poor Eric when he couldn't locate you. He feels a kinship with you now. He may struggle with how to express that, but it drives him nonetheless. They all feel protective of you, each in their own way. Let them do this with you, Mr. Deeks. They need this as much as you do. You were a strong team once, and will be again if you pull together instead of apart. Working with you again will help all of them temper whatever guilt they are still clinging to. Give them that opportunity, Mr. Deeks. You'll be stronger for it. We all will."

Their conversation was interrupted as Kensi poked her head in to tell them they were needed back in Ops. Deeks slipped his hand into hers as they walked out, calmed by her firm grip on his hand as they made their way upstairs. He could feel the electricity in the air as soon as they entered the darkened room and he looked expectantly at Callen.

"Forensics are finally back on the helo," he said, turning to the big screen as an image of the damaged helicopter appeared. "The electrical system was rigged and the explosive charge was probably on a timer."

"We also received the results from the tox screen we ran on the pilots," Nell said. "They both tested positive for Rohypnol, roofies."

"Whoever did this didn't want anyone to make it out of that chopper," Sam said. "They thought the crash would cover up the small explosion and that the helo would sink and never be found."

"So this was part of his plan," Deeks said. "They were killed to eliminate witnesses."

"That's not all," Eric said eagerly. "I just got off the phone with the kid that shot the video of the crash. He was on a small fishing boat and saw the chopper take off from Burke's cargo ship. He started shooting video of it when it got closer to his location. When he saw it shudder, he said he was afraid it was going to crash into his boat."

"This should be enough to convince the French to let us investigate, Hetty," Callen said.

"I'll make a few calls," she said, a hint of a smile on her face as she looked over at Deeks.

The team followed her back down and waited anxiously in the bullpen, occasionally stealing a glance at Hetty as she quietly made several phone calls. It was the last one that had them all up and listening intently as her voice grew louder and her comments adamant. When they heard Deeks name mentioned they all turned to look at him and he stood and purposefully walked toward Hetty's office with Callen and the others close behind.

"Don't do this Leon," Hetty said angrily. "He is part of the team and knows her better than the others."

She listened intently until she suddenly slammed the phone down, taking a moment to gather herself. They could all see how angry she was, but when she looked up her eyes fell solely on Deeks and her face was laden with sadness.

"Director Vance has put you on medical leave for two weeks, Mr. Deeks," she said slowly. "He's been ordered to pull you from this case, I'm afraid and nothing I say will change that. I'm sorry."

All of them stood stunned into silence except for Deeks.

"Fuck 'im," he said sharply. "I quit."

He turned and would have walked away if Callen hadn't grabbed his arm as Sam and Kensi closed in around him, blocking his way.

"Don't do this, Deeks," Sam pleaded. "We'll find her and bring her back."

"I'm afraid you won't be going on the mission either, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said as she walked around her desk to stand in front of the team. "Director Vance would only authorize Mr. Callen and Miss Blye to go to Paris. He has put you in charge of making sure the Walkers are safe and that Hamid Shahpur is apprehended."

"Hetty, why is he splitting up the team?" Callen demanded. "We just got Deeks back and now he's breaking up our partnerships? Why?"

"Before Mr. Burke left the country he filed a complaint against Mr. Deeks," she answered. "He had it delivered directly to SecNav by a Vice Admiral. He also had a couple of influential congressmen and a senator speak directly with him, demanding Mr. Deeks be fired. Fortunately, SecNav and our director refused to bend to their pressure, but it was agreed that you be removed from this case."

"He has powerful friends," Callen said.

"He has Ruthie, but I guess that's okay with the people in Washington," Deeks' voice was venomous. "She's nine years old. She's alone. She's been taken from the people who love her and she's scared and all the higher ups can do is watch out for one of their own. I guess SecNav doesn't care about the two NCIS agents who were killed or that one of his own Navy researches was shot and his wife almost killed. My job is nothing compared to that."

He pushed through them then, his anger visible on his face as he strode toward the door.

"Deeks, we'll find her," Callen called after him.

Deeks stopped and turned back to stare at them, his expression turbulent.

"On that first night, after Jürgen left me tied to the bars of my cell, do you know what I thought of?" He asked. "I thought of each one of you. I wanted to be strong like you. I didn't want to give up, because none of you did when you were fighting for your lives. I wanted you to be proud of me when you found me, and I had no doubt that you would. When Granger told me you weren't coming because you thought I was dead, I still tried to be strong. I wanted to live up to what's expected of a federal agent. Now, I'm not sure what that is. Becoming a federal agent was one of the proudest moments of my life. Now, I'll give that up willingly because a little girl is being kept someplace she doesn't want to be, by a man who believes he has the right to do whatever he wants with her. She's as powerless as I was and I'm not going to play by any rule that lets him get away with that."

He turned and went back to his desk. The others slowly followed, but no one really knew what to say as he sat silently typing on his laptop. Within minutes he got up and made a phone call and then calmly walked out of the building. Kensi followed him, but came back twenty minutes later, telling them Joe had picked him up.

"Did he say what the hell he's gonna do, Kensi?" Sam asked.

"He's already done it," Hetty said. "He emailed me his resignation."

"Shit!" Callen said softly as he sank back into his chair. "He's going to Paris and there's nothing we can do about it."

"We can at least track him," Nell proposed quietly. "We'll help you find him in Paris and you can do this together, just like you planned."

"I didn't hear that Miss Jones," Hetty said. "Now, make flight arrangements for our agents, while I make another call."

Hetty settled into her chair and looked once more at the brief resignation letter from Deeks still open on the screen of her red laptop. She sighed and reached out with one finger, forcefully striking the delete key.

"Cheeky bastard," she said and then smiled. "Leon, I think you've underestimated our Mr. Deeks."

She took a thoughtful breath and picked up her private cell and scrolled through her contacts until finding the one she sought. She had never spoken to the man she was calling before, but she had no doubt he would respond to her request. She had a talent for picking people for needed situations and this one had been an easy choice. It would be a way for her to assess his skills more closely and if he was as good as she believed he was, then she would put him on her private watch list for the future.

When she finished the call she asked Eric to come to her office. The tech arrived quickly, but seemed nervous as he approached her desk.

"Mr. Beale, you are going undercover," she said brightly, almost laughing at the startled look on his face.

"I don't speak French, Hetty," he said quickly.

"That's a shame, Mr. Beale. It's a very beautiful language," she said. "But, I'm sorry to say you won't be going to France. I need you to offer to help Mr. Deeks now and when he gets there. He can't know I've put you up to this. It will just make him suspicious, but he needs a friend right now and your offer to help him track down Preston Burke in Paris will ease some of his concerns. Make it appear as if you are doing this on the sly and that the rest of the team knows nothing about your clandestine assistance."

"Hetty, he's a very smart agent," Eric reminded her. "Won't he know I'm lying?"

"Just whisper when you speak to him and your natural nervousness will cover the rest," she said, smiling warmly at him. "Of course, you'll keep us all in the loop, Mr. Beale."

"Of course," he said. "He'll just think he's on his own until he gets to Paris and finds out it's a team op."

"And if he manages to elude Callen and Kensi, then you will be our link," she said quietly. "Our saving grace, Mr. Beale."

"You're really sneaky, Hetty."

"Have you ever thought otherwise, Mr. Beale?"

...

...

Deeks felt bad that he hadn't confided in Joe on the ride home. He'd let him believe he had just gotten tired and needed to go back to his own place so he could sleep, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He wasn't going to be deterred by anyone and he didn't want to listen to another lecture about his limited capabilities after being shot. He wasted no time in gathering his things, stopping only when he realized he had no idea how to get the weapons he would need through airport security. He quickly searched out the rules online and cursing softly as he realized he'd need to shop for a carrying case. He'd never had to do this stuff alone before. Nell and Eric always had everything taken care of and the team simply got on the plane, knowing whatever they needed would be waiting for them wherever they landed. He was making lists of what he would have to do for himself when the phone rang.

"Deeks?" Eric whispered.

"You called me Eric. Who did you think would answer and why are you whispering?" Deeks asked with a laugh.

"Sorry, dude," Eric said softly. "Nell said you resigned and I heard the guys arguing. They think you're going to Paris."

"Eric, why did you call me?" Deeks asked, instantly suspicious.

"I want to help," he answered and then dropped the phone. Deeks could hear him cuss and then the sound of scraping and bumping, followed by more cussing.

"Sorry, man. I dropped the phone," Eric began whispering again and Deeks couldn't help but smile.

"Where are you?" Deeks asked.

"In the janitor's closet," he said softly. "Hetty's pissed and I was afraid I'd get in trouble if she knew I called you. I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, just call my private number or text me and I'll find out whatever you need, like before."

"When it was Granger you were hiding from," Deeks said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Thanks, buddy," he said. "This means a lot to me. Could you do some research on Preston Burkes' residences in Paris?"

"You think he'd keep her in Paris?" Eric asked, his voice clear and strong.

"Good point."

"I'll search for all the properties he owns in France," Eric said quietly. "Anything else you need? Plane tickets? A place to stay in Paris? A car?"

"You're a one-stop-shopping paradise, buddy," Deeks laughed.

"Just doing my job," Eric said. "Well, my secret job anyway."

"Don't get into trouble on my account," Deeks said soberly. "I don't want to get you fired."

"I'll send the tickets to your old burn phone along with the address of your hotel in Paris," Eric said in a rush. "Gotta go, someone's coming."

Deeks sat quietly, grateful for the friendships he had made and for Eric's unexpected offer to help. He had been his lifeline before and now was offering his help once again and he knew the tech had just made his life so much easier. Once he got to Paris, he would be on his own and he suddenly felt quite tired. He took a couple of pain pills and stretched out on the couch, his mind swirling with plans and images of Ruthie sitting up in the old gnarled apricot tree in her grandfather's orchard. The thought of such a free spirit being held captive made him sad and angry and his mind turned back to his own captivity. He didn't like to dwell on it anymore, but the parallels struck him hard as did the memories of his recovery and he felt a deep need to talk to George.

"When were you gonna tell me you got shot?" George said straight away.

"I didn't want to worry you," Deeks said, comforted by the sound of his voice even though his words were sharp.

"I worry about you everyday, Son," he answered. "I would have been a lot less scared about what happened if you had called instead of Joe. I knew something had happened to you the minute he started talking."

"Some undercover agent he is," Deeks joked.

"And you think I don't know something's up with you?" George asked. "Tell me what's bothering you, Son. You'll feel better."

"I resigned," he said, suddenly embarrassed to admit it.

"This have something to do with you getting shot?" George asked.

Deeks could hear the concern in his voice, but also the unmistakable sound of support. The man was ready to fight for him without even knowing what the threat was. He knew without question that George would take his side and that was something he never tired of and he caught himself choking up at his familiar, steadfast love.

"Marty? You okay, Son?" George asked when he didn't say anything.

"The little girl I told you about, Ruthie, has been kidnapped," he finally said. "I think her real father is the one who staged it, but my director pulled me off the case, so I resigned. I need to go to Paris and find her, George."

"Joe told me one of his security guards shot you," George said. "You think that man wanted you dead."

"Yeah, I do," he answered.

"You going up against this guy alone?" George asked.

"I have to do this, George. I promised her I wouldn't let anyone hurt her or take her," he said. "I can't bear to think of her all alone with that guy. She's only a possession to him. He'll crush her spirit, and I can't let that happen."

"You think you failed her," he replied. "But, you can't do this alone. You're wounded."

"I'm fine," Deeks said quickly.

"You may be, but I'm sending Elan with you," George said. "I'm not letting you go up against someone who already tried to have you killed without someone to watch out for you. I'm surprised Hetty would let you either."

"She's sending Callen and Kensi," he said. "But I have to go, George. Ruthie is waiting for me. I know she is."

"Then Elan will meet you in Chicago," George said.

"Don't you have to ask him first?" Deeks said, smiling at the determination in his father's voice.

"He's your cousin. He saved us all once and now he feels responsible," George said softly. "He'll be there. Count on it."

...

...


	16. Chapter 16

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 16_

...

As he waited for the other passengers to exit the plane in Chicago, Deeks pulled his phone to make his promised call to Joe. He was pretty sure he was still angry with him for not telling him he quit, but they had gotten most of it out on the ride to LAX. Joe had verbally kicked his ass for conveniently forgetting they were brothers whenever it suited him and wouldn't let him off the hook for quitting and going it alone. Even the knowledge that his cousin Elan would be with him didn't make Joe back off, his deep concern touching him even though he should be used to it by now. He was continually amazed by the love the Atwoods so generously shared with him, taking none of them for granted or denying Joe the right to cuss him out when he deserved it. He had smiled one too many times during Joe's rant though, and had gotten a punch in the thigh worthy of Kensi. He'd been glad Joe had remembered his wounded shoulder or he probably would have thrown up all over Joe's unbelievably clean car if he hadn't.

Their phone conversation was brief and Deeks gave his brother Eric's number in case of an emergency or if he just wanted to find out what was happening. Eric had agreed to share any information that would keep Joe somewhat informed and from jumping on the next flight out if things went sideways. Now he stood in the midst of the craziness that was O'Hare as people streamed around him and felt lost for a moment amid the deafening babel. He was absorbed in thoughts of Ruthie and the uncertainty that lay ahead when the strong arm of Elan Hand wrapped around his neck and he smiled at the familiarity of the gesture.

"Hey Cuz," Elan said softly in his ear. "I could use a beer. How about you?"

"I probably owe you at least that, or maybe a six pack or a case," Deeks laughed. "Sorry you got pulled into this, buddy."

Elan didn't say anything in reply, he simple steered Deeks through the mass of people until they found a suitable bar with a table in the back corner overlooking the runways. The noise now toned down to a reasonable level, they piled their carry-ons against the wall and gave their orders to the frazzled blond waitress.

"Fill me in on who we're up against, Marty," Elan's voice was calm and confident and Deeks felt nothing but gratitude that he had agreed to back him.

He gave the shortest version of what had happened, knowing Hetty and the higher-ups would probably have him arrested if he gave classified information to an Arapaho without a security clearance. Elan stared into his beer as Deeks told his story, never interrupting, but listening intently until he was finished.

"Sounds like a real bastard," Elan said before downing the rest of his beer. "How many men does he have around him?"

"Not sure, but he has more money than God, so probably quite a few," Deeks answered.

"Hope you brought some firepower," Elan waved to the waitress and they quickly had two more beers.

"I pick up my gun case when we get to Paris," Deeks said. "You armed?"

"I will be when we get there," Elan leaned back and stared at him for a minute. "How's the shoulder?"

"Okay."

"Bullshit," Elan smiled as he said it and called the waitress back and asked for a glass of water. When she set it down, Elan raised his eyebrows and pushed the glass toward him, and Deeks dug a couple of pain pills out of his pocket and dutifully took them.

"You look tired, Marty," he said. "Get any sleep on the plane?"

"No. You?"

"I was an Army Ranger, remember?" he said, snorting out a laugh. "We learn to sleep when and where we can. George and Joe are expecting me to take care of you and that means making sure you don't over do it."

"Okay, Mom," Deeks grinned. "How's Littleshield and the menagerie at the ranch?"

"Uncle Jim is good. He's staying with George until I get back," Elan said. "Dogs are the same, except Joker's slowin' down some. Boo's full grown now and still scared of her own shadow. She's not afraid of the creek though and is kind of a smart ass like you. She waits until she gets near someone to shake off all that water and it's usually George. He swears she's laughing at him when she does it."

"How's my favorite horse?" Deeks asked softly.

"Sheila's starting to get pretty big." Elan said with a gentle smile. "Uncle Jim says her foal should be good lookin'. The stud has great bloodlines and so does she. You come up with a name yet?"

"Haven't thought about it for awhile," he said. "Too caught up in this case."

"I talked to Joe before I left and he shared a little of what you told him about Ruthie," Elan said quietly, his eyes never leaving Deeks' face.

"Do you ever want to have kids, Elan?" Deeks asked as he picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"I have a son," he replied, his voice low and wistful.

"Where is he?" Deeks tried unsuccessfully to keep the surprise off his face.

"Don't know. My girlfriend never told me she was pregnant. Took off with some rodeo guy after I left for my second tour in Afghanistan," he said slowly, the pain still evident in his voice. "He'd be about ten now."

"How'd you find out about him?" Deeks asked.

"I ran into her brother when I got back home and he told me," Elan said. "I tried to find them, but no luck."

"I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah. Wasn't meant to be I guess, but I still look for them," he said, physically shaking off his sour mood as he leaned over the table. "Joe told me Ruthie made you want to have kids."

"Remember Kensi?"

"A man doesn't forget a woman like that," Elan smiled.

"Ruthie reminds me of her," Deeks said softly. "She's nine and full of curiosity and definitely has a mind of her own. She's smart, confident and tough, loves to climb trees..."

He stopped talking, unable to still the guilt that tightened his chest or escape the images of Ruthie that were never far from his mind.

"She hates pink," he said, trying to continue. "She saved my life, Elan, and now it's my turn to save hers. That guy will slowly smother everything that makes her who she is. He'll crush her spirit until he makes her what he wants her to be and he doesn't have the right to do that."

"Some fathers think their kids are themselves reborn," Elan said. "When they don't turn out like their vision, they do whatever it takes to mold them to their own dreams."

"That sounds personal," Deeks said gently.

"Very," he answered. "When it got to be too much I ran and if Uncle Jim hadn't found me, I probably wouldn't be sitting here."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Did he take you back to your dad?"

"No," he laughed. "He bought me."

"He what?"

"He paid my dad twelve horses. One for each year of my life," he said softly. "They were beautiful. Good breeders."

"And your father accepted that?" Deeks asked in amazement.

"Jim Littleshield has always been greatly respected by the tribal elders," Elan said. "Plus, nobody really liked my father, so they told him to take the horses and get off the Rez."

"What about your mother?"

"My mother was an alcoholic and died when I was seven," he said, his voice hollow. "She was Jim's little sister and he never forgave my father for leading her down that path."

"You and I have a lot in common," Deeks said quietly. "Both our dads were assholes."

"I'll drink to that," Elan laughed and they touched glasses.

They sat together in silence until they heard their flight called.

"Time to go get Ruthie back, Cuz," Elan said firmly. "Any idea where to start looking?"

"Eric, the NCIS tech operator will have that for me when we get to Paris," Deeks said as he paid the bill and stood to gather his bags.

"I thought you quit?"

"He's a friend and he offered to help," Deeks said with a slight smile.

"Is he any good?"

"He shut down the Internet once," Deeks laughed. "He's a computer savant, man. If anyone can find out where Burke might be keeping her, it's Eric."

The two men walked purposefully through the crowd of travelers looking for their gate, Elan earning stares along the way, mainly from women, for his striking features and very long, thick black hair and cowboy boots. Deeks realized just how much he stood out from the crowd and wondered how that would play out when they reached Paris. Whatever happened, he had no doubts about the man backing him up. He owed his life to Elan Hand, they shared a bond and even though they shared no blood, they would protect each other as if they did.

...

...

The lines for passport control in Paris were choked with excited tourists, harried mothers trying to calm exhausted children and irritated businessmen. Deeks set his carry-on bag down and pulled his arm across his body, trying to ease the throbbing pain in his shoulder. He hadn't slept more than three hours during the flight and he was almost as grumpy as the small boy in front of him who threw an impressive tantrum, delaying the line he was in and earning glares from just about everyone. He took a deep breath and went over in his mind all the reasons he was doing this in an attempt to block out the roar of voices around him. Elan tapped his back and he realized they had finally made it to the checkpoint and he smiled at the officer who took his papers. The man checked his passport and then looked him over. Deeks felt a nervous tingle begin at the back of his neck as the man picked up a clipboard and read the top sheet slowly. The man then picked up the phone and made a call. Deeks shot a warning look back at Elan and nodded toward four security guards making their way through the crowd.

"Are you traveling alone?" the man in the booth asked.

"No. We're traveling together," Elan said as he moved up next to him.

The man reached his hand out for his passport and eyed him as suspiciously as he had Deeks. By the time he'd finished examining their papers, the four security guards had surrounded them and Deeks' whole body was infused with adrenaline as they were led off to the side, through a door and down the hall to a small room. The austere white room contained a metal table and sturdy wooden chairs and they were told to sit. The guards were armed and a couple spoke quickly to each other in French and seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Deeks looked over at Elan, who was outwardly calm, but coiled for action, his muscles rippling along his arms. One of the security guards must have noticed too, because he put his hand on his weapon and stared intently at him.

"I hope this isn't payback for what Kensi did to a French operative we met," Deeks said with a big smile. "He's probably still walkin' funny."

Elan seemed to relax a little at his comment, making Deeks a little calmer. The door opened and a small, officious looking man in uniform entered and sent two of the guards out.

"Do you have any checked baggage?" he asked, as he flipped through some papers in his hand.

"We each have one case," Deeks said, his smile now gone.

"And what do these cases contain?" he asked.

"A couple of hand guns and ammunition," Deeks answered.

"A rifle, a handgun and three knives," Elan replied.

"Give me the claim tickets," the officer said brusquely, "Your weapons are being confiscated."

"When can we get them back?" Deeks asked.

"When you leave the country," he answered. "The baggage claim tickets, si'l vous plaît."

The man handed them off to one of the security guards and then turned to regard them coldly.

"Where are you staying while you are here?" he asked.

"Why? Are you coming to visit?" Deeks asked as he stood. "Cause, we really aren't interested in developing a relationship with you."

"You brought weapons with you," he said. "I would be remiss in my duties if I did not ask."

"But you already know where we're staying," Elan said stiffly. "It's on the forms we filled out before landing."

"See that you do not change hotels, Monsieur," he stated firmly. "Or I will make sure your visit ends quickly."

The door opened and Deeks and Elan walked out and were met by a large and surly, dark haired man in uniform who blocked their way. He said nothing, just stared into Deeks' face for a couple of moments, his jaw tight and his eyes venomous.

"Can I do something for you?" Deeks asked.

The man grunted and shook his head and then purposefully bumped hard into Deeks' wounded shoulder as he brushed roughly past him, causing Deeks to gasp at the burning pain that shot through his chest and down his arm. Elan quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him walk out into the noisy hall full of travelers. He led Deeks over to a metal bench and eased him down before pulling a bottle of water out of his carry-on bag and handing it to him. He rummaged through Deeks' jacket pocket and pulled out the pain meds and gave him two, eyeing the security guards as he stood protectively over Deeks.

"Somebody tagged my passport," Deeks said softly.

"Yeah, they did," Elan said. "Any guesses?"

"It wouldn't be a guess," Deeks said as he stood up and defiantly stared at the four security guards.

"Any idea who the bastard was that bumped into you?" he asked as he picked up both bags and turned Deeks toward the exit.

"Not a clue," Deeks said as they walked slowly out of the large hall.

The taxi ride into the city gave them both a chance to calm down. Their first view of the Eiffel Tower brought a smile to Deeks exhausted face and he started to feel excited, having only seen the distinctive landmark in pictures. By the time they finally drove into the central part of the city, he had his nose press against the window like a kid. The early morning light warmed the beautiful facades of the buildings that flashed by and Deeks slowly became entranced by the charm of the city that Hetty had told him so much about. Most of the streets were wide and busy with traffic and hoards of tourists and people on their way to work, but as the taxi made its way into the Marais district where they were staying, the streets became narrow and winding, the buildings smaller and lined with a colorful mixture of tiny shops, eclectic restaurants and boutique hotels. Finally, they stopped in front of the green facade of the Hotel Emile. It was a tiny place, but Eric had promised it was modern, cheap and not surprisingly, fully equipped with Wi-Fi.

"If our rooms are ready, you need to get some sleep," Elan said as they made their way inside.

"No argument there, but I'm hungry," he said.

"I can recommend an excellent café, Monsieur," an enthusiastic bellman said as he grabbed the bags from Elan. "Or I can send coffee and croissants to your room."

"I like this place already," Deeks said as he leaned against the reception counter.

When they got inside their room, Deeks stared at the dizzying, geometric pattern on the walls and laughed, telling Elan he was glad he didn't have a concussion. After a brief trip out onto the tiny balcony to survey the neighborhood, Deeks collapsed on one of the twin beds and was asleep almost immediately. Elan left him to take a walk around, familiarizing himself with the area and checking out the café that Louis, the bellman had told them about. He returned to find the young man knocking on their door with a tray of croissants and a carafe of coffee. Elan thanked him and took it inside, noticing that Deeks hadn't moved in the hour since he'd been gone and had been oblivious to knock on the door. He poured himself a cup of coffee and was on his second croissant when Deeks began to stir, rolling onto his back and sniffing the air, finally lifting his head and fixing his eyes on Elan.

"Coffee," he moaned out dramatically.

"Good coffee," Elan said with a smile.

"You didn't eat all the croissants did you?" he said as he sat up slowly.

"Saved a couple for you," Elan said as he poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

Deeks drank deeply of the hot liquid and then tore through his croissant, lathering its buttery insides with strawberry jam. As he reached for another, his phone rang and he quickly answered.

"Cool place you found us Eric," he said.

"Glad you approve. How do you like your new phone?" Eric asked.

"You didn't have to do that, man," he said. "The old one worked fine."

"It's up to me to keep all you guys up to date with the latest technology," Eric kind of grumbled. "Anyway, this one lets me track you better, just in case. I've sent you a couple of addresses in Paris for Preston Burke. One is a residence and the other is his corporate office. I'm still researching his other holdings, but I'll get them to you as soon as I can."

"This means a lot to me Eric. Thanks man," Deeks said. "We were stopped by security at the airport, so they were on the lookout for me. They confiscated our weapons, too. Any ideas where we can get our hands on some new ones?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Eric said in farewell.

Deeks silently finished off the last croissant and looked up to see Elan watching him.

"You should go back to sleep," he finally said.

Deeks didn't even answer, he just stood and checked the addresses Eric had sent to his phone and grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Elan shook his head and followed. Louis directed them to the Metro and on their way they paused to pick up a few items for disguise. Deeks purchased a panama hat and tucked his hair up under it. Elan simply tied his hair back at the neck and hid the lengthy tail of it under his jacket. They spent the rest of the day doing surveillance on Preston Burke's office and at the end of the day, his residence. Elan whistled in amazement after the taxi dropped them across the street from the strikingly white and austere mansion located not too far from the Arc de Triumph.

"Looks like him," Deeks snorted with contempt. "He's still trying to stick it to his dead father. Going modern because his father was anything but."

The two men walked along the street until they found a park bench to sit on. Deeks checked his messages and then they waited, one or the other occasionally taking a walk around to check the back entrance. Deeks started to get antsy and would have gone up and rang the doorbell, if Elan hadn't talked him out of it, earning him the silent treatment for a while.

"This isn't going to happen in one day, Cuz," Elan finally said. "Let's go back to our place and shower and grab some dinner. You look beat."

Deeks had to admit he was tired and his arm was starting to burn with pain so he agreed, taking one last look up at the balcony of the impressively large house. They had seen no activity at all, and it made him wonder if Eric's instincts hadn't been right about Burke maybe not keeping Ruthie in Paris.

By the time they got back to the hotel, it was dark and late and Deeks was running on fumes and irritated by the lack of progress. After a rejuvenating shower they headed out to eat, walking through almost deserted streets until they came upon the brightly lit café set off by a red awning, the outside tables filled with young people smoking and drinking wine. Louis had told them to order the Pot-au-Feu and they were not disappointed, Deeks groaning with pleasure at the tender beef stew. Elan was getting quite a lot of attention, Deeks pointing out that it was probably because of his hair, which now hung loosely around his shoulders. As they drank their espresso he was approached by a young, attractive Parisian girl who asked if he was an American Indian.

"Arapaho," he said, delighting the woman and her three friends.

Photos were taken with the group surrounding him as Deeks laughed and took pictures of his own with his phone to send to Joe and his father. The group insisted on paying for their dinner and it took them almost a half an hour to extricate themselves from the slightly tipsy group of friends. Finally, they said their goodbyes and started back along the narrow streets, the laughter of the Parisians following them as they walked. The street they were on twisted and turned, and Deeks reached out and nudged Elan, noticing a small van following closely behind them. The two men stepped into a small alleyway and waited until the van passed, only relaxing when they saw the police markings on the side.

"You think Preston Burke's gonna make a run at us?" Elan said

"He has connections here," Deeks answered as he stepped back out of the alley. "He had them watching for me at the airport, so yeah, I think he might."

"We get weapons tomorrow, first thing," Elan said, throwing an arm over his shoulder as they walked.

Suddenly, a police car roared out of the street they were about to cross and stopped in front of them with the police van that had passed them just minutes earlier pulling up beside them, blocking them in. They were quickly surrounded by six men and roughly searched. A single man ordered them to do something in French that neither one understood until Deeks was slammed against the wall and held there. Elan moved quickly to come to his aid, but never got the chance as three of the officers restrained him and shoved him back against the van behind them and Deeks sent him a warning look. The officer who had spoken walked slowly up to stand in front of Deeks.

"You're the guy who bumped into my shoulder at the airport," Deeks said as he tried to pull away from the men holding him.

The dark haired man took a step toward Deeks and then suddenly punched him viciously in his wounded shoulder, causing him to cry out and stumble back against the wall, gasping at the pain. The man closed in as he fell back, one hand gripping his jacket while the thumb of his other hand pressed into Deeks' shoulder, pushing deeply into his wound until he screamed. Elan fought and almost got free, knocking one man down before he was beaten to the sidewalk with batons and then cuffed and manhandled into the back of the police van. Deeks was having trouble staying conscious as the Frenchman continued to put pressure on his wounded arm.

"Who the hell are you?" Deeks managed to choke out.

"I am Capitaine Philippe Duval," he said, his accent heavy and his eyes raging with anger. "You killed my brother Gerrard."

"Your brother attacked innocent people and shot a woman," Deeks said angrily as he struggled to keep standing.

"You are a liar," the man shouted in his face, releasing his shoulder and backhanding him across the mouth, sending him tumbling onto the grimy concrete. Damaging kicks came quick and hard and his vision slowly faded to gray as the man continued to assault him as he lay curled on the ground trying to protect his ribs. He had no idea how long the attack continued, but he finally felt himself being lifted and he passed out as they forced his arms behind his back and cuffed him.

Deeks jerked awake as he was hauled from the police car and frantically began to look for Elan. He calmed slightly when he saw two officers drag him out of the van, but he could see that Elan was still unconscious and he felt angry with himself for getting him into this. He tried to clear his head and gage his surroundings as they shoved him forward, but his shoulder was hot with pain and his tender ribs had him catching his breath, adding to his dizziness. He was expecting to see a well lit police station, so was surprised by the semi-darkness of the parking lot they were in. He glanced to his left and saw they were next to the river and he could see barges and boats floating past, going about their own business unawares. He looked up at the huge stone facade in front of him, illuminated with a few lights that cast an orange glow over the deserted area and he began to feel cold deep down in the pit of his stomach. Duval grabbed the back of his jacket and shoved him through an ancient looking iron door and he found himself in a old stone entry hall lit by actual torches and he wondered where the hell they were taking them.

"Hello Deeks," a familiar voice floated out from the darkness.

Malcolm Webb stepped out of the shadows and smiled.

"Nobody to rescue you this time," he continued as he walked slowly up to him. "Philippe here is a captain in the National Police Force, which is how he has access to this place. He is giving you and your friend a personal behind-the-scenes tour of the Conciergerie. During the French Revolution, prisoners were held in the dungeons here until they were taken to the guillotine. Not all of them were killed that way however and Philippe wants you to experience how some of the other prisoners died here."

"Where's Ruthie?" Deeks asked.

"She's with her father, asshole," Webb growled.

Deeks took a deep, controlling breath and held it, trembling slightly with the sure knowledge that Ruthie was alive and he blinked back warm tears of relief and anger for what had been done to her.

"A real father wouldn't put his little girl through that," Deeks spit out as he struggled against Duval. "She saw her mother shot down by this prick's brother, you pathetic piece of shit."

"Ta gueule!" Duval roared and shoved him violently toward a flight of wide stone stairs that disappeared into heavy darkness below. He fell hard, tumbling down several steps until he hit the curving wall and sprawled out, panting from the pain. He could hear Elan cursing behind him, but could offer no response as Duval dragged him down the worn stones into the dark, the only light coming from a couple of torches being carried by the policemen who had taken them. The air became dank and smelled of rotting things as they descended and the final sounds he heard before he lost consciousness was his own labored breathing and the laughter of Malcolm Webb echoing eerily above him.

...

...


	17. Chapter 17

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 17_

...

Ruthie stood at the high window chewing on her fingernail while she absentmindedly pulled at the pink barrette trying to control her unruly hair. She sniffled and then angrily brushed at the tears staining her face, wiping them on the front of the pink flowered dress Preston had demanded she put on. She watched the elegant people strolling in the well lit garden far below, their laughter floating up to her attic room and making her sad. She didn't mind the room, even though it was pink, because it looked out over the vast apple orchard and she spent every morning watching the workers tend the trees. She had begged to be allowed to walk there, but Preston wouldn't allow it unless she agreed to French lessons, which she steadfastly refused to take.

He had told her about tonight's dinner party that afternoon and she had screamed at him that she wouldn't go or wear the ugly dress he had presented to her and he had gone silent and she knew she had made him very angry. She'd continually refused to call him father, not wanting to believe his story, so they had settled on his first name, although she could tell it bothered him, especially the tone she used when she said it. Memories of her parents suddenly made her cry again and she moved away from the window and turned to search for anything that would distract her from her grief. Preston had punished her defiance that afternoon by removing all of the toys and dolls he had placed in her room, so there was nothing to cling to, nothing to offer solace accept her memories. So she curled up on the four-poster bed and wrapped her arms around the soft white pillow and recalled her conversation with Deeks about the Lone Ranger and how he rescued little girls in distress. She knew he was probably dead too, like her parents, but there was something in Preston's eyes when she'd asked about him that made her wonder.

She sat up quickly when he pushed open the door and walked into the room and she tightened her grip on the pillow.

"Ruth, it's time you made an appearance," he said coldly. "My guests are waiting. I see you've managed to wrinkled your new dress."

She recognized his anger by the set of his jaw and scrambled quickly off the bed and tried to smooth down her wild hair as she walked to the door.

"My name is Ruthie," she said, looking at him boldly as she passed by.

...

...

He slowly came to when his hands were cut free and he raised his head slightly to look around, seeing only the legs of his captors until he was pulled to his feet. Then the smell hit him and it was rank enough to clear his head and he searched quickly for any sign of Elan, finally seeing him on the floor of a cell that looked like something out of a bad horror movie. He wasn't moving and Deeks felt his heart lurch with concern and anger and he tried to go to him, but was forced to stop as Duval stepped in front of him and pressed a thick wooden baton against his chest. One of the policemen pulled a large caliber pistol and pointed it down at Elan and he held his breath and waited.

"Do as I say or your friend will die," Duval warned, pushing him back slowly step by step until grabbing his jacket to stop him.

He was roughly spun around, causing a wave of dizziness that made him sag against the men holding him upright. He felt the wooden baton slowly tapping on his shoulder and smelled the sweat coming off of Duval as he moved up close behind him. The familiarity of the situation roared into his mind and he physically shook as the memories that had haunted him for so long settled deep inside once again. Trying to put them out of his mind, he looked around; daunted by the massive stones of the oppressive place they had brought him to. The musty room was dimly lit with strings of old fashioned light bulbs that draped along the high walls and the torches the men had carried down the stairs had been placed in large iron sconces, casting an eerie flickering glow over the heavy stones, reminding him of some of the computer games Eric played. It was very cold and slightly damp and he heard odd scratching noises coming from the shadows and sensed they were deep underground.

"Look down," Duval whispered and he did, stepping back instinctively when he saw the deep stone pit plunging into shadow below him.

His stomach clinched as he struggled to back away from the worn edge, but Duval rammed the baton hard into his back and he would have fallen if the others hadn't held him up. His jacket was stripped off and the cold cut through his thin shirt as they shoved him toward a rusted iron ladder that descended into the pit. He began to struggle, fiercely resisting and tearing himself free of the men, striking the policeman closest to him, knocking him over the edge, his scream reverberating off the walls until it was cut off in mid cry. Deeks stopped fighting at the sound of the man's body hitting the bottom and Duval quickly brought the baton sharply down on his wounded arm and he shouted in pain, sinking to his knees and breathing hard.

"Climb down the ladder or I will have your friend shot," Duval said harshly as he stood over him.

Deeks wiped some blood from his lip and turned his head to look at the iron ladder, resigned to the fact he had no choice. Two of the cops quickly climbed down ahead of him and Duval placed a foot on his back and pushed him closer to the edge and he grabbed the top of the ladder to keep from falling over the edge. He steadied himself and shivered as images of the cell in South Africa flared in his mind and he fought against the fear of being at another man's mercy again. His eyes were drawn to Elan as he stirred on the floor of his cell and he called out to him. Elan looked up and Deeks saw the quick flash of anger in his eyes as he took hold of the bars of his cell and pulled himself to his feet.

"Shoot him," Duval ordered.

"No!" Deeks shouted. "I'll do it. Just leave him alone."

"Marty, don't," Elan called out. "Whatever it is, don't do it on my account."

"I have to, Cuz," he said as tears blurred his vision. "You're family."

Deeks turned and started down the ancient ladder, afraid to look at Elan again, trying to shut out the sound of him shouting his name. By the time he reached the bottom he could barely see in the deepening shadow of the pit. He was raging with anger as he rested his forehead against the rung in front of him, his heart racing and his mind searching for any means of escape. He gripped the cold iron of the ladder with both hands until he felt the two policemen touch him, then his anger exploded and he lashed out with all his strength, slugging one and then the other, ending up on top of the younger one, beating the man senseless as blind rage surged through him. The other one pulled him off, but he managed to backhand the man, sending him crashing against the wall. Then he was on him, his hands clawing into his neck, choking him with a fury that had been simmering deep inside since Jürgen had taken him. He felt the man go limp under his hands, but he didn't release him until Duval brought the baton down on the back of his head.

The pounding pain pulsing behind his eyes was the first thing he felt as he became aware. The second was the realization that he was being lifted to his knees and his arms pulled behind him. He felt a deep chill as thick iron manacles were secured around his wrists and locked tightly in place as he was shackled to the floor in chains. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and the memories that sent a stab of fear into his abdomen, leaving him quivering. Duval grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back against his body as he stood behind him. The wooden baton pressed across his throat and he blinked back angry tears as he pulled against the chains that held him.

"You fuckin' bastard," he rasped, barely able to get the words out.

"During the revolution, this pit was used for the men who deserved a slow death," Duval said. "My brother's death at your hands deserves nothing less."

"Hate to break it to you at this late date, asshole," Deeks spit out. "But I didn't kill your brother. Malcolm Webb lied to you so you would do his dirty work and you, being the good little soldier that you are, marched right along to the beat of Preston Burke's drum."

"I do not know anyone named Preston Burke," he said, releasing him and coming around to stand in front of him.

"He had Webb hire your brother to kidnap a little girl and to kill her parents so he could bring her here to France," Deeks told him, rushing through the words. "But he failed and was shot before he could kill her mother and father. Not very competent, your brother."

The slap was immediate and the taste of blood made him furious and he struggled to stand, but Duval rammed the baton into his stomach and then beat him across the back until he ended up once again on his knees, his arms stretched painfully behind him as his head came to rest on the cold stone floor. He wasn't sure why he antagonized the man, but the truth was the only weapon he had and the smart-ass comment just came naturally.

"I do not believe your lies," Duval said quickly before beginning to rant in rapid French.

The man walked around him several times, kicking him every once in a while as if to underscore the point he was making as he rambled. Deeks' mind began to fog and he struggled to breathe through the pain until finally, after one solid kick to his now bloody shoulder, he heard the man walk away and start up the iron ladder. He panted and tried to stay conscious, afraid of what was coming next. He heard a screeching sound, and raised his head as the telltale sound of rushing water filled the confined space and he sat back on his knees as a cascade of river water poured out of an opening high up on the side of the pit wall and icy fear fired through him. He struggled to his feet as the first stream of water hit the stones and slipped across the floor, washing over his shoes and wetting the bottom of his jeans.

"I will be back in a few hours," Duval called down. "I want to watch you struggle as the waters of the Seine cover your face and your mouth and hear you beg for mercy that will never come."

The footsteps of the departing men were haunting and when they turned off the string of lights, he was left with just the flickering torches to dimly light the onrushing water that now lapped over his shoes.

"Marty?" Elan's anxious voice cut through the darkness.

"Elan. Are you okay?"

"I'm not the one in a hole in the ground," Elan's voice was raw with anger. "You tied down?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I let you down, Cuz," he said.

"I shouldn't have let George talk you into coming with me," Deeks said sadly.

"Hetty asked me first," he said.

"Seriously?"

"She cares about you, man. They all do," Elan said roughly.

"You don't deserve to go out like this, Elan."

"Neither do you, Cuz," he answered. "This is not the Paris I was looking forward to."

"Me either, buddy," his laugh hollow.

The river water was cold and dirty and was rising slowly, but steadily and he felt his anger and rage slowly dissipate with the knowledge that no one knew where they were and that this was probably the end for him and for Elan.

"Joe's gonna be pissed," he finally called out, picturing his brother in his mind and the rant he knew would follow when he heard the news.

"He'll rip a couple of bars apart and cuss us both out in the process," Elan laughed sadly.

"Yeah, he will."

His mind passed slowly over images of Joe that never failed to make him smile, but thinking of him grieving over him and Elan made his heart ache. He never got tired of being with the man who became his brother, their banter always lightening his mood if he were down. They laughed so much together and he pictured him holding his young son in his arms, his face beaming with pride and excitement and he suddenly choked up, knowing their deaths would hurt him deeply. When his mind turned to George, he quivered with deep sorrow at what this would do to him.

"Do you think George will be all right?" he asked.

"No and neither will Uncle Jim."

"He loves you like a son."

"We've both been lucky that way," Elan said. "At least until now."

They remained quiet for a while, the sound of the cascading water growing louder as the water deepened around Deeks' ankles.

"I was going to name Sheila's foal, Ruthie," he called out in the dark.

"What if it's a male?" Elan asked.

"Dumbass," he answered.

"Are you talking about me or the horse?"

"No. Me."

"Naming the colt after yourself then."

"Seems appropriate."

The unrelenting sound of the cascading water finally silenced them, but the knowledge that they would die together gave each one small comfort, feeling one another in the gloom as they waited.

...

...

Callen was surprised when he saw his name on a card being held by an attractive, shorthaired blond. She was stylishly dressed in tight jeans and a jade colored silk blouse that Kensi immediately noticed along with the look on Callen's face as he stared at the woman. He turned to smirk at Kensi with raised eyebrows, and she promptly punched him in the arm, earning a scowl from the senior agent. They were both slightly bleary eyed, given the extremely early hour and when they stopped in front of the blond, her enthusiasm was a little difficult to take.

"Bonjour Agent Callen and Agent Blye," she said confidently with a lilting French accent. "Hetty has told me so much about you."

"Really," Callen said suspiciously. "Like what?"

"Like your response to the statement I just made," she said as her smile faded.

"She told us nothing about you," Kensi said coldly.

"I'm one of her well guarded secrets here in Paris," the petite woman answered. "My name is Lily."

"No last name?" Callen questioned.

"You have no first name and I choose not to use my last name," she responded dryly as she motioned for them to follow her. "You can call her if you believe I am a danger to you."

"How do you know Hetty?" Kensi asked.

"I will tell you that in the car," Lily said quickly as she scanned the terminal.

"Expecting someone else?" Callen asked.

"Did you have any trouble at passport control?" she asked as they walked out of the airport.

"No, why?" Callen asked quickly.

"Your friends did," she said as she opened the trunk of a classic Citroën painted red and black and which quickly captured Callen's attention, checking it over as he wedged their bags in.

"We only had one friend coming here," Kensi said as she took a step back.

"Hetty asked Mr. Deeks' cousin to be his backup," she said as she took another quick look around.

"Elan Hand," Callen said.

"Yes. Now I think it would be wise to get going," she said, moving around the car and getting behind the wheel.

Callen and Kensi shared a look and then joined her in the car, which almost instantly darted out into traffic and began to weave through cars as Lily rapidly navigated the airport roads and then sped out onto the main highway.

"You drive like Kensi," Callen grunted as the woman swerved erratically around a slow moving van.

"Hetty told me you get carsick," she said with a smile.

"You going to share how you know her?" Callen asked.

"Some, but not all," she said. "Let's just say I am her eyes and ears inside French Intelligence."

"You're Hetty's spy?" Kensi asked in surprise.

"Something like that," she answered as she checked her rear view mirror again.

"Want to tell us what's got you so spooked?" Callen asked intently.

"Mr. Deeks and Elan Hand were stopped at passport control and interrogated briefly by security," she answered.

"We knew that," Kensi said.

"What you don't know is that they are missing," she said, eyeing Kensi in the mirror.

"How do you know that?" Callen asked.

"Because Hetty asked me to help them," she answered. "I went to their hotel late last night but they never returned from dinner."

"How long did you wait?" Callen asked.

"Until I had to come and pick you up at the airport," she said.

"So you think they've been taken," Kensi asked, choking on the words.

"Oui."

"What has Hetty told you about this case?" Callen asked as he stared at the woman.

"Everything," she answered. "But there is a complication you don't know about."

"Which is?" he pushed.

"One of the men who was outside the interrogation room at the airport was Philippe Duval," she said as she changed lanes rapidly and crossed over to the main road into Paris. "His brother was Gerrard Duval."

"The man who was killed in the raid on Preston Burke's place in Bel Air. You think this guy Duval has them." Callen said slowly. "Tell me about him."

"He's a high ranking captain in the Police Nationale," she answered. "And he's a prick of the highest order and extremely dangerous. He knew where your friends were staying and he has men under his command that will do anything he asks. And he loved his brother, unnaturally so."

"How do you know that?" Kensi asked, barely controlling her emotions.

"Because I had his brother arrested once," she said softly as she gripped the wheel tightly. "In retaliation, he had me kidnapped and beaten. If it hadn't been for Hetty, I would have died. After that I found out everything I could about him and his brother."

Callen reached out and put his hand over hers as it trembled on the steering wheel and she looked quickly at him, her eyes shining with tears that she quickly blinked away. They drove in silence through the city, which had yet to wake in the early hours before dawn and crossed the Seine onto Île Saint-Louis. Lily slowed the car as they drove along the river under a canopy of trees and pulled to a stop in front of a classic French townhouse, its pale blue, filigreed iron balcony softly complimenting the cream colored facade. Lily moved quickly to the door and let them in, watching the street as they dropped their go-bags on the marble floor of the entry. She flipped on the lights and after locking the door behind her, quickly entered a code into the alarm box and led them up the curving staircase to the upper floors. Callen noticed the security cameras right away and smiled, knowing this beautiful and charming townhouse was really a fortress that would be difficult to breech without being spotted, if it could be breeched at all. The second floor could only be accessed by a thumbprint and Lily had it open in seconds, revealing a lovely room with floor to ceiling French doors that overlooked the Seine and were heavily draped in delicately flowered chintz.

"I need to get your thumb prints on record, so you can come and go as you please," Lily said as she pulled a Glock from her handbag and placed it on the elegant antique table between two of the windows. She checked the street and then turned to see both agents waiting, their eyes hard and worried.

"Where do you think Duval is holding them?" Kensi's voice wavered as she spoke and she clinched her fists tightly at her sides, trying to keep herself under control.

"You are lovers," Lily said quietly, her brown eyes soft and warm as Kensi nodded.

"I have a contact who is close to Duval, but who is not fond of his methods," Lily shared. "I am expecting a call from him as soon as he has any information."

"You think he's keeping them in the city?" Callen asked as he prepped his weapons.

"He has compatriots here. It's where he is comfortable and he knows it well," she answered.

They all jumped as her cell phone rang and she spoke briskly in French, her voice rising and falling as she asked questions and Callen and Kensi became alarmed as they followed what she was saying. When she hung up, she closed her eyes briefly and Callen noticed her jaw clinch and saw a deep anger in her eyes as she looked from one to the other.

"You understood?" she asked before turning to grab her gun and her bag.

"Only your side of the conversation," Callen said as he placed his gun behind his back. "Now where are they?"

"La Conciergerie."

The anxious look on her face alerted Callen and he tilted his head, the question there in his gesture.

"It is a huge complex," the words rushed from her mouth. "If we have to search for them it could take hours."

Callen had his phone out before she stopped speaking.

"Eric, I need the last location you have for Deeks' phone," Callen practically yelled into the phone. He nodded and then waited a second as a map of La Conciergerie appeared on his phone with the exact location of where Deeks had entered the building. He showed Lily and saw her blanch.

"I know now where he has taken Deeks and why. We haven't much time to reach them," she said as she walked over and gripped Kensi's arm. "Know how sorry I am if we are too late."

Kensi's eyes watered as she pulled away, turning quickly toward the door and they both followed her down the stairs and out into the silent morning. Callen squeezed Kensi shoulder as they got into the car, but she held herself rigid, barely acknowledging his gesture. The little Citroën roared to life and Lily raced quickly through the narrow streets and finally onto the bridge. Callen watched numbly as Notre Dame flashed past, fighting to keep his mind clear and his emotions in check. He looked back at Kensi and knew she was doing the same. He wouldn't let himself fail this time. He couldn't. Losing Deeks now might break him and he questioned himself silently, wondering why he had ever pulled away from him, but realizing it was because of the kind of pain he was feeling now. That heart wrenching pain of loss that he'd always associated with his mother, but that now included a man he thought of as a kid brother. He didn't know if he could bear it if he lost him now.

Lily drove onto the deserted streets of the Île de la Cité, passing by the rustic facade of La Conciergerie, its fairytale turrets belying its dark past during the Reign of Terror. She turned and followed the high wall that faced the Seine until pulling into a small car park hidden behind a high stone wall. Two other police cars were parked close to a small iron door and a man could be seen nervously pacing beside one. Lily skidded to a stop and quickly jumped out and the man turned away and shook his head.

"Are we too late?" she asked hesitantly.

...

...

Deeks coughed and spit out the dirty water that poured into his mouth and nose as he struggled to keep his head above the rising pool of darkness. His arms ached as he strained and pulled against the heavy chains that bound him to the floor, trying not to give up but now extremely weak after hours in the freezing water. He shivered uncontrollably as the river invaded his ears and mouth, his attempts to keep his face above the rising water failing repeatedly and he shouted angry curses into the shadows around him. Elan would call out encouragement ever so often, but his voice was now raw with the effort and sounded defeated as he raged against the solid iron bars of his cell. Deeks eyed the large black rat that had been caught in the pit along with him as it swam around the perimeter once again, searching for an escape under the relentless cascade of water.

The sound of someone walking slowly down the stone stairs caught both men's attention and Elan shouted out for help. The only response was a low laugh and the familiar sound of Duval speaking French to whoever was with him. The three men came to stand in front of Elan's cell and he cursed them when he saw the gun in one man's hand. The other opened the door and Elan stepped slowly back as they entered. He watched as Duval looked briefly at him before turning and walking to the edge of the pit, standing with his hands behind his back as he looked down at Deeks fighting to keep his head above the filthy water.

"You have only a few minutes to live," Duval said. "Then the Seine will take you and I will gladly give your body to her."

"Fuck you," Deeks managed to sputter before his head sank and the water buried his words.

When his face broke above the waterline once again, the captain laughed.

"I want you to hear your friend die," Duval said.

"No!" Deeks screamed before choking on the water that flooded into his mouth.

Duval quickly shouted an order for Elan's death as Deeks' head disappeared. The two policemen stood side-by-side and motioned for Elan to come out of the cell and he obeyed, moving slowly forward, his head down as if defeated until he was out of the cell. As the armed policeman raised his gun, Elan charged them both, taking them to the floor as the gun fired. The bullet ripped through Elan's side but it didn't slow him down. He smashed the gunman's head into the unforgiving stone floor and when he felt him go limp he grabbed the other man, swiftly breaking his neck in one fluid motion before charging like a bull into the body of Philippe Duval, taking him over the side of the pit and down beneath the dark water that now frothed with Elan's blood. Duval struggled and fought for his life, but Elan's strong hands closed around his throat, throttling him and holding him deep under water until he stopped moving. When Elan broke the surface of the dark water he searched frantically for Deeks, finally seeing him just below the surface and he kicked toward him, pulling his head out and begging him to breathe.

"Come on, Cuz," Elan shouted, smiling as Deeks opened his eyes.

"Did you kill the bastard?" he asked.

"Yeah. Now I'm getting you free," he said roughly.

"I don't think you can," Deeks murmured softly as his head went under again.

Elan dove below the water, running his hands down Deeks' arms until he felt the manacles around his wrists. He couldn't see anything in the inky water, but his fingers felt the heavy pin that kept one of the manacles locked and he pulled, feeling it come free in his hands. He quickly found the other and yanked it out, freeing Deeks from the chains that held him. He surfaced, pulling Deeks up with him until his body floated on the surface. He got behind him and pulled him close, letting his head rest on his shoulder so his face was completely out of the water and then he began to talk to him.

"I got you, Cuz," he whispered against his cold face. "You're okay, Marty. Just breathe, man. Just breathe."

...

...


	18. Chapter 18

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 18_

...

The stairs descended into darkness as they found their way down, flashlight beams slicing through the thick oppressive gloom. Kensi walked as silently as she could, listening keenly for any sound coming from the shadowy depths below them. She was one step behind Callen, who had insisted on leading the way with Lily and the French policeman following closely behind them. All had their weapons drawn and were barely breathing as they moved cautiously down step by step, trying not to alert Duval and his men to their presence. Kensi tried not to think about what they would find, but her heart had been beating wildly ever since Lily had explained what was at the bottom of the stairs. She had been sure everyone could hear it pounding in her chest as she began to panic, wanting to run down there, shouting Deeks' name, but Callen had stopped her before she even reached the outer iron door. The policeman in the car park had told them what Duval had planned for Deeks and Kensi had been stunned by his description. She had watched Callen's face morph into a mask of rage, but he'd quickly controlled himself and the steely determination that replaced that rage helped to calm her. She'd only seen that look once before, when he'd resigned to go after Hetty in Prague.

When they reached the final step, they heard nothing but the rush of falling water. Callen sent a beam of light flashing quickly around the silent room, drawing his breath in sharply as he saw two dead bodies lying just outside an open cell door.

"Policemen," Lily whispered.

The four of them walked slowly to the edge of the pit, the pale patterns from their flashlights moving restlessly across the surface of the dark water, finding only emptiness. Kensi couldn't hold back a tiny sob and Lily wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tightly.

"Deeks?" Callen yelled out, sending the name echoing off the stone walls. "Elan?"

"I heard something," Lily whispered after a moment, moving her light slowly around the perimeter of the pit until its beam revealed a black rat swimming along the wall. The rat took no notice as it continued its endless search, the light following its journey until it climbed atop a body floating in the inky water. The flashlight faltered in Lily's hand, but other beams came to rest on the face of the dead man.

"Captaine Duval," the policeman said.

"Deeks!" Kensi screamed his name out desperately, the silence suddenly deafening.

"Here."

The voice was so weak, she thought she had imagined it, but the sound of Callen's body hitting the water confirmed that at least one of them was alive. Frantic beams of light converged on Callen as his powerful strokes pulled him toward the voice and then she saw him. Deeks had one arm hooked over the rung of a rusted ladder and the other wrapped around Elan's chest, holding him close, his face barely above the waterline. Deeks was shivering violently and his eyes closed against the harsh brilliance of the flashlights, but he was alive and she quickly pulled away from Lily and rushed around the edge of the pit as Callen reached him.

"Deeks," Callen said breathlessly as he reached out to brush the wet hair out of his eyes.

"Hey," Deeks whispered. "Elan's been shot."

Callen took Elan in his arms, taking his weight off of Deeks who slowly disappeared beneath the water. Kensi, now hovering just above him on the ladder, reached out and grabbed his collar, pulling his head up and he began to cough, spitting out foul smelling water.

"Can you climb?" Callen asked.

"I'll try," he choked out.

The French policeman dropped into the water beside Deeks and helped him start up the ladder, following closely behind so he wouldn't fall. Deeks was shaking badly and could barely get a grip on the rungs of the ladder, slipping several times until Kensi got her hands under his arms and strained to pull him up and over the edge. He sprawled out on the floor, coughing and then curled in on himself as he tried to find some warmth. Kensi fell to her knees beside him and lifted him into her arms, holding him as he shivered violently.

"How did you find us?" he mumbled.

"Hetty's spy and Eric," Kensi told him.

He didn't ask for an explanation, just pulled desperately closer, clinging to her as he shook.

Callen and the policeman managed to get Elan up the ladder just as Lily found the light switch, dimly illuminating the desperate scene. Elan was bleeding badly, but he suddenly woke and lashed out violently until Callen grabbed his arms and held them down, calling out his name repeatedly until he stopped.

"Where's Marty? Did I lose him?" he asked hoarsely, becoming agitated as he stared into the water filled pit.

"No, Elan. He's right behind you," Callen said, letting him go. "He's safe."

Elan groaned as he turned toward Deeks, reaching out for him, gripping his sodden shirt in his fist as he lay curled up around Kensi.

"He would have died if that bastard hadn't come back to gloat," Elan said.

"You made him pay for that," Lily said.

"I just didn't do it soon enough." he said harshly as he looked up at her.

"You are a hard man," she said softly.

"Watching someone you care about being beaten and almost drowned will do that to you," he said without energy.

"I know," she replied, causing him to look sharply at her.

Deeks began coughing and struggled to sit up, looking around warily until his eyes came back to rest on Elan.

"You still bleeding?" he asked as he gripped his arm.

Elan nodded and the depth of feeling the two men held for each other was obvious to all of them.

"Let's get you two out of here," Callen said quickly. "I don't think we want to be here when the police arrive."

"I killed three cops," Elan said softly. "I'll have to answer for that."

"Not if they don't know you were here," Lily said quickly as Callen helped him to his feet.

Elan stared at her briefly, his brow furrowed with a question he seemed too tired to ask. The policeman stepped forward and offered to help him and he nodded, stumbling as the man walked him toward the stairs. Kensi and Callen managed to get Deeks to his feet, but he leaned heavily on Callen as they made their way slowly away from the pit. He paused before they started up, staring blankly at the dark water and the black rat sitting on top of the bloated body of Philippe Duval and Kensi felt him start shivering again, so she pulled him away and they started their long climb up.

Deeks was eased into the passenger seat of the Citroën, while Elan collapsed into the back seat of the police car. The drive to the townhouse was nothing but a blur as Lily sped through the streets now starting to come to life as a few people made their way out for morning coffee or to walk their dogs, just as if it were any other morning. Deeks stared out at the passing scene as Kensi gripped his shoulder, unable to keep her hands off him.

"Nice," he said weakly as the little car abruptly stopped in front of the townhouse. "Is it yours?"

"Hetty's," Lily replied as she slammed out of the car and rushed around to help him out.

Kensi knew he must be in shock when he blinked slowly at her and started to walk away from them toward the river. He looked drunk as he staggered across the street, ignoring both women's pleas to come inside. He leaned against the low wall and stared down at the water, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he stood shivering in the pinkish light of a new day.

"It's a beautiful river, but it tastes like shit," he said harshly as Kensi wrapped an arm around him.

"You must get inside before someone sees you," Lily insisted. "You are putting Elan at risk."

At the mention of Elan's name, Deeks slumped against the wall and it took all of Kensi's strength to hold him up. Callen came up behind and took Deeks' arm, slinging it across his shoulder and half dragging him back across the street and into the entry hall. Elan sat slumped in one of the small antique chairs, his blood dripping slowly onto the white marble floor. Lily spoke rapidly in French to the policeman, who nodded and left quickly as she swiftly closed and locked the door behind him. She then moved toward a wooden panel opposite the stairs and pushed a button, revealing a small lift, which made Callen smile as he dragged Deeks inside.

"Hetty thinks of everything," Deeks murmured.

"I should have known this place was hers," Callen replied as the lift door opened on the second floor. Lily and Kensi were waiting for them and helped Deeks out as Callen went back down to get Elan.

"Elan should be in a hospital," Deeks said as they walked him into a pale blue room with an elegant bed in the center, a small marble fireplace gracing one wall.

Lily opened the door to the bathroom and started the shower. The two women helped him inside the room and began stripping off his shirt and tearing away the soggy, bloody bandage on his shoulder. When Kensi reached for the zipper of his jeans he raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Dream sequence," he said weakly.

"You stink, Mr. Deeks," Lily smiled. "Nothing more."

"Kens?" he asked. "Anything?"

She lost it then and tears silently streamed down her face as he stepped out of his shoes and then his jeans, his eyes never leaving her face. Lily had discreetly left, but neither one noticed as they quietly embraced, holding each other until he became aware of the sound of the cascading water of the shower and jerked back as if awakening from a nightmare. He began to shake violently and she ushered him into the hot shower, worrying as he sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands as the steaming water beat down on him. She surveyed all the bruises that colored his body, and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks as anger tightened her throat. Quickly taking off her clothes, she got in the shower with him, gently washing his hair and cleaning away the remains of the filthy slime that clung to his skin. Even under the heat of the pulsing shower, he continued to shake, so she pulled him to her and held him until he stopped, only releasing him when she felt the water turn tepid.

"Come on, Deeks," she whispered. "Let's get you to bed."

He blinked slowly as he looked up at her, his blue eyes showing he was too exhausted to say anything, but he smiled and she knew what he was thinking. She turned off the water and helped him out, drying herself off before rubbing him down vigorously with one of the huge white towels. She rewrapped his wound with the gauze Lily had laid out, worrying over the redness that surrounded it. He was practically asleep on his feet, so she quickly towel dried his hair before pulling him toward the bedroom. Lily had made a fire, and it was blazing when they walked out and he stopped briefly to stare at it while she threw back the duvet and he finally turned and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over his head. Kensi slipped under the covers behind him and wrapped her arms around him and he laughed softly as he pressed back against her and moaned, occasionally shivering as she kissed him softly on the back. She held him quietly until he drifted into sleep, his body still feeling chilled, but no longer shaking.

She listened to his soft snores as she fingered the fine hair that curled at the base of his neck, unable to dispel the image of him clinging to the ladder in the black water. She slipped her hand over his side and pressed it to his chest, needing to feel the beat of his heart so she could convince herself that he was here with her, safe once again. This new trauma had come too soon after what Granger and Jürgen had done to him, and she felt her anger nibbling at the edges of her mind. How had they let this happen to him again? How had they let him come so close to death without them there? They had let him go. They had let him walk into the danger and had done nothing to stop him. Why? Why had she not resigned and followed him? He meant the world to her, but she had followed orders instead and now she hated herself for it. She suddenly couldn't stay still and slipped from the bed as quietly as she could, afraid she had disturbed him, but breathing easier when he didn't move, happy to watch him sleeping soundly as she dressed and left the room.

She moved restlessly through the house, stopping in the kitchen to pour herself some coffee and to mindlessly eat a croissant even though she wasn't hungry. She began wandering again, coming upon Callen silently cleaning his weapon on the elegant dining room table and she wondered what Hetty would say if she knew. He glanced up at her and his eyes told her that he didn't want to talk, so she moved on, knowing he was as angry as she was.

Her hand went to her weapon when she heard a man's voice in the hall, but Lily's familiar rush of French stopped her reaction as she realized he was a doctor, here to treat Elan. She waited until the man started down the stairs before making her presence known, watching Lily react to her sudden appearance with sharp eyes and a quick hand to her gun.

"Don't do that, even here," Lily said, her tone tough and so different from the woman they had first met.

"Sorry," she said without really meaning it, her anger unabated.

She followed Lily back into the bedroom where Elan was, watching at a distance as Lily pulled the covers up over his chest before checking his IV.

"How is he?" Kensi asked softly.

"The bullet cracked a rib, but it is a shallow wound," she said wearily. "Doctor Roche sutured it and shot him up with pain medication and antibiotics. He's concerned with how much blood he lost and fearful of an infection. He left antibiotics for Deeks as well."

"Let me guess. He's an old friend of Hetty's," Kensi smiled.

"He's my uncle," she replied as she walked past her and out the door.

The two women wandered into the front room and Lily went to the windows and checked the street, her hand on her weapon. She glanced at Kensi with a hollow look and then walked to a sideboard topped with a variety of odd shaped bottles and poured herself a glass of brandy. Lily sank into a chair in the early sunlight, trembling slightly as she silently sipped at her drink, her eyes unfocused as she stared blankly at the floor.

"Are you okay?" Kensi finally asked.

Lily laughed softly as tears started in her eyes and she downed the remaining brandy, seemingly unaffected by the strong liquid.

"Merde!" She said through gritted teeth, wiping her tears with a shaky hand. Her eyes were stormy and dark as she set the glass down on the delicate table next to the chair, her features hardening as her fists ground into the tops of her knees.

"I have longed for Duval's death for so long," she whispered. "I thought I would be happy now that he has been killed, but I am still too angry. There is no satisfaction. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I do," Kensi replied sadly.

The two women stared at each other until Lily nodded and looked solemnly down at her closed fists.

"He had my father killed," she said barely above a whisper. "I could never prove it, but I know it was him."

"Oh my God, Lily," Kensi choked out. "I'm so sorry."

"It's why I don't use my family name," she said. "What I do makes it too dangerous for them."

"The job robs us of so much," Kensi said. "I wonder sometimes why I continue to do it."

"We are similar, you and me," Lily said quietly. "But you have someone in your life who understands."

"But I almost lost him again," Kensi replied.

"He has been this close to death before?" Lily asked, turning to search her face.

"This was his first field assignment since being kidnapped and almost tortured to death," Kensi said, shivering at the memory. "I wasn't there for him then just like I wasn't there for him this time."

Kensi stood up quickly, feeling the need to move as her agitation and long held guilt threatened to send her over the edge.

"Don't do that Kens," Callen's voice startled them as he leaned against the doorframe. "Don't pick up that guilt again. Deeks doesn't want any of us to do that."

"Don't tell me how to feel, Callen," she spit out. "We knew he would come here on his own and we did nothing to stop him or to help him. I did nothing. What if he'd been killed?"

"But he wasn't," Callen said.

"We have Elan to thank for that," Kensi said, suddenly tired.

"Will Elan be arrested?" He asked, as he came into the room and slumped into a wing-backed chair across from Lily. "Because if they try, you have to know we won't let that happen."

"Duval did this on his own. He would only have told those men closest to him and two of those men are dead," Lily said. "If there were others, their loyalty died with him. They will not risk being exposed over Duval's barbaric plan."

The three lapsed into silence, finally allowing their exhaustion to drain them of energy. Eventually Kensi left to check on Deeks, while Callen called Hetty to let her know everyone's status. Lily finally stood and headed for Elan's room, making her excuse to Callen who barely acknowledged her.

Elan was standing at the tall window overlooking the small back garden, having removed the IV from his arm. The bandage over the wound in his side stood out starkly against his smooth dusky skin and Lily stopped just inside the door to admire him.

"I didn't expect you to wake this soon," she said softly as she walked up quietly to stand by his side.

"I can't get it out of my head," he said.

"What?"

"That pit filling with black water with Marty chained to the floor," he answered. "He was fighting so hard to live."

"You are family?" she asked.

"Sort of," he said, flashing a small smile, but offering nothing more.

She ran her hand down the length of his arm until it rested on the tape over the cannula her uncle had inserted for the blood transfusion. She held his forearm lightly in her hands, smoothing the tape down where it had pulled away from his skin. She looked up into his face as he calmly watched her, his eyes a deep brown and slightly curious.

"You have beautiful skin," she said as she tentatively touched one of the bruises on his chest.

He said nothing, but let a small smile begin to play at the corner of his mouth as she stepped closer to him, the softness of her silk blouse brushing against his bare stomach.

"You are very strong," she said softly. "To take out three trained policeman is quite remarkable."

"I was trained as an Army Ranger," he said.

"Hetty told me you're Arapaho," she said as he cupped her elbow in his hand, pulling her closer.

"And what are you?" he asked.

"A Frenchwoman who grew up watching cowboys and Indians on television," she laughed. "My father loved old American Westerns."

"So I'm your childhood fantasy?" He laughed quietly.

She reached up and touched his hair, fingering it gently before brushing it back over his shoulder. She let her fingers rest briefly there before smiling and letting her hand drop to her side.

"I am attracted to you," she breathed out softly.

"You don't waste time, do you?" he said.

"In my line of work you never know how much time you have," she said, turning away from him to gaze out at the garden. "You and your friend could have died today, all of us could have. So we must seize the time we have and live it to the fullest."

"And how would you like to do that?" he asked, his long fingers gently taking her hand.

"When this is over I will show you," she said, turning to look in his eyes.

"I'll hold you to that," he smiled and stroked her hand with his thumb.

"I never break a promise," she said as she leaned into him and left a warm kiss on his chest.

She started to leave and he took her arm, pulling her back, his eyes searching her face with an odd look in his eyes.

"I don't even know your name," he said, looking down on her, his breath held as he waited.

"I'm Lily."

...

It was the mouthwatering smells from the kitchen that finally brought most of them into the same room. All of them except Callen had spent the afternoon sleeping, trying to recover from the traumatic events of the previous night. He had been on the phone with Hetty and the technical analysts for over an hour, trying to locate Preston Burke. After that he had walked the streets of the insular little island, spending some time sitting in the sun having espresso at a small cafe overlooking the Seine. It had allowed him to work out some things in his mind and now that they were all together he would be able to bring everyone up to date on the current intel.

"That smells incredible," Kensi asked, smiling for the first time that day. "What is it?"

"Coq au Vin," Lily said, looking at Elan as she spoke. "It's one of the few things I know how to make."

"Deeks still asleep?" Callen asked.

"He was when I left," Kensi said.

"He'll be hungry," Elan said. "We haven't eaten since we were taken."

"I'll get him," Callen said, walking quickly out of the kitchen.

Deeks was propped up on pillows staring into the dying fire when he opened the door to his room. Callen's eyes lingered on the multiple bruises that were turning a deep purple along his ribcage and hesitated as a rush of anger hinted at the turmoil he had experienced when he'd seen him clinging to that ladder in the dark, dirty water. Deeks glanced at him, but then looked down to concentrate on his own fingers as he fiddled with the edge of the duvet.

"I almost got Elan killed," he said softly as Callen pulled a chair up close to the bedside.

"No. That would be on Preston Burke," Callen replied. "The French airport authorities rely on private companies to provide security checks on incoming passengers. Want to guess who owns one of those companies?"

"Burke must have set it up just in case I showed up," Deeks said.

"I think he was counting on you showing up," Callen replied. "He has a lot of connections in the government here and he somehow found the one man who wanted you dead more than he does."

"Malcolm Webb was there with Duval last night," Deeks said, his hand shaking slightly as he ran it through his hair. "Ruthie's alive, G. Webb told me she's with Burke."

Callen huffed out a quick breath of surprise and gripped Deeks' arm, his face intense and his expression questioning.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked as Deeks' head dropped back on the pillow.

"I was so exhausted and disoriented when you found me that I thought I had dreamed it," he answered as his eyes brimmed with tears.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," Callen said, suddenly contrite.

"We had his house here under surveillance, but no one was there," Deeks told him. "G, we have to get her away from him."

"Yeah. Not a real good role model," Callen said softly. "You okay?"

"Other than a couple of flashbacks, I'm fine," he answered. "When I was trying to keep that bastard from having the satisfaction of watching me drown, I thought of Jürgen. It was like he was waiting there in the shadows. Waiting to watch me die."

Deeks shivered and Callen gripped his shoulder hard, trying to pull him back from the memories, fearful that he might have a panic attack. Deeks looked curiously at him, his eyes clouded and troubled, trying to explain, but not able to put it into words.

"But you didn't die," Callen said. "They did."

"Yeah," Deeks whispered. "Elan saved me again. He's gonna get tired of doing that one of these days."

"I doubt it," Callen said. "I'm glad he was here for you, brother."

"Hetty asked him to come," Deeks said. "And so did George. Still need a babysitter, I guess."

"It's called backup, kid," Callen said sharply, but gently squeezing his shoulder.

Deeks nodded and they sat quietly together for a few minutes until he finally asked how they had found them and Callen told him, sharing Lily's story about her connection to Duval. They both laughed over Hetty's many contacts in the world, but Callen noticed a sudden change in him as he became lost in thought.

"Callen, if Malcolm Webb finds out Duval is dead, he'll know I escaped," Deeks said. "Burke will move Ruthie and we may never find her. We have to get to her now, G."

"Eric and Nell have been searching all day," Callen said as Deeks threw off his covers and bolted to his feet. "When they give us possible locations we'll go, but right now you need to rest and have something to eat. Lily made Coq au Vin and it smells pretty great."

"I am hungry," he said quietly.

"You might want to put on some clothes," Callen laughed as he handed him his go-bag. "Kensi's used to seeing you naked, but you might give Lily a shock."

"How's Elan?" Deeks asked, slipping a gray, long sleeved T-shirt over his head before quickly pulling on a clean pair of jeans.

"He's doing better," Callen said with a smirk. "And it might have something to do with Lily."

"What do you mean?"

"They were throwing some pretty intense looks at each other over the Coq au Vin," Callen said.

"French women seem to go for that native look he's got going," Deeks said, smiling openly.

"It's the hair," Callen said as he steered him out the door.

"Always worked for me."

"Wiseass."

...

...


	19. Chapter 19

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 19_

...

Dr. Roche gently patted Deeks' shoulder after each stage of his exam, talking very slowly to him in French as if he could understand what he was saying. Deeks' smile had widened each time as he looked to Kensi and Callen for help, while they tried their best not to laugh. It was late and Deeks was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, especially after two helpings of Coq au Vin and a glass of Burgundy. Kensi had cautioned him about drinking wine while he was on pain medication, but he testily disagreed, saying he felt entitled after the night he'd had, which no one had the heart to argue with. The doctor had arrived just after dinner and been introduced by Lily before she'd excused herself and gone out. He'd already checked Elan's wound and redressed it before giving him another shot for the pain even though Elan had insisted he didn't need it. The doctor had interrupted his objection with a flurry of French, which Elan had replied to in Arapaho causing all of them to try and hide their smiles at the confusion on the kind doctor's face.

His examination of Deeks had gone somewhat smoother until he unwrapped the dressing on his wounded shoulder. The wound was angry and red and the doctor turned to Kensi and spoke softly to her. Callen looked as alarmed as she did and Deeks sat up a little straighter in bed as the discussion proceeded rapidly in French, both agents questioning the man at length.

"Somebody want to fill me in?" He finally insisted.

Before anyone could say anything, the doctor shoved a thermometer in his mouth and patted him once more, this time on the cheek, which did nothing to calm him down.

"Your wound's infected, Deeks," Callen said.

He mumbled something that sounded a lot like "shit", but it was hard to tell and he continued to look between Callen and Kensi, who was now biting her bottom lip and looking worried.

"Well, what the hell is it?" Deeks finally was able to ask.

"102 degrees." Kensi said, as the doctor showed her the thermometer.

"What's that mean?" Deeks asked wearily.

"It means you stay in bed until it comes down," she answered.

"I'm going to find Ruthie as soon as Eric lets me know where Burke is keeping her," he said slowly for emphasis and with a look of determination that left no doubt that he would not be deterred.

"Kensi and I will find her, Deeks," Callen said, trying to make him see reason.

"Bullshit!" Deeks exploded in anger. "So I have a fever. So what? I'm going, Callen. I'm the one who made a promise to Ruthie and I'm the one keeping it."

"Deeks, please," Kensi warned.

"Please what?" he asked harshly. "That asshole tried to have me killed twice and you think I'm just gonna stay here in bed and eat croissants and drink cafe au lait while you two go up against him? That's not gonna happen, so you can just forget it."

"Would you at least spend the night here?" Callen asked with a smirk.

"Callen." Kensi turned to stare at him. "You can't be serious."

"Kens, he came here after Director Vance told him he couldn't," he said softly. "You know he'll just go by himself if we don't take him with us."

"Don't forget about me," Elan said from the doorway. "The bastard tried to have me killed too."

"Great! Now we have two wounded idiots to worry about," Kensi said as she brushed past Elan.

"Did she just call me an idiot?" Elan asked as he slumped into the chair by Deeks' bed.

"Think of it as a term of endearment," Deeks said, flashing a smile as the doctor picked up his arm.

The shot surprised him and he yelped as the needle pushed a strong antibiotic into the muscle of his arm. Then he was out, never feeling the doctor's gentle squeeze of his hand or the snort of laughter from both of his friends.

...

...

Callen interrupted his Skype session with Hetty and Eric when he heard the front door open and close quietly, his hand reaching instinctively for his weapon. It was after four in the morning, so he moved cautiously through the dining room until he could see the dimly lit staircase and entry hall below.

"Lily," he said softly.

The woman turned swiftly and smoothly, her gun out instantly, although quickly lowered when she saw Callen at the top of the stairs. He thought she looked exhausted, even though her movements were quick, almost cat-like when she'd drawn her weapon.

"I almost shot you, Callen," she said.

"Hetty wouldn't have liked that," he said lightly, watching her climb the stairs until she stood beside him.

"And I would have hated the paperwork," she said as she headed for the kitchen.

"I've got a Skype session going with Hetty and Eric," he told her as he turned toward the dining room. "There's been a development."

"Let me make some tea and I'll join you," she said slowly. "I have information to share."

Callen updated Hetty on Deeks' condition and told her about his determination to join the search for Ruthie and Burke. She wasn't terribly surprised about that or Elan's intention of joining them, although she was concerned about the repercussions he might face for killing Duval and the other two policemen. Lily joined him in front of the laptop, handing him a steaming cup of tea before settling in to listen.

"Lovely to see you again, ma chère," Hetty said with a tiny smile.

"Tu me manques, ma petite," Lily said softly, saluting Hetty with her cup of tea.

"I miss you too, dear and I will try and find some time to visit," Hetty said. "Hopefully, I'll still be welcome in France after this mission is completed. Preston Burke is very highly connected in certain circles. How about Duval?"

"Philippe Duval had many enemies," Lily smiled slyly. "Several men will be arrested for his death this morning, if they don't decide to resist."

"How did you work that out?" Callen asked.

"It wasn't terribly difficult," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as if it were nothing. "A few well placed phone calls about suspects known for their viciousness and for their hatred of Duval, and the wheels of justice slowly turned in our favor."

"All for the greater good, I assume," Callen frowned.

"Would you prefer the truth be revealed?" she asked seriously, her eyes curious as she stared at him.

"No."

"Paris will be a better place without these men," Lily said. "His enemies were quite thrilled to hear that Duval was dead, and wasted no time in pointing the finger at their competition."

"Our other problem is Malcolm Webb," Callen said. "He knows the truth. He was there. He told Deeks that Ruthie was with her real father."

"Now that we have that confirmation, you haven't much time, Mr. Callen," Hetty said quickly. "Eric, you're on."

"Preston Burke has a surprising array of holdings in France," Eric began. "But one stood out. He inherited a chateau on seventy acres, or I should say hectares, in the Pay d'Auge in Normandy. The closest town is Lisieux. All of the buildings are situated in the middle of the property with a security fence and a staffed gatehouse. It's fairly close to Rouen and not too far from Paris, but isolated enough to keep Ruthie hidden."

"What is the Pay d'Auge?" Callen asked.

"An area in Normandy that's mostly farmland and small villages. They grow apples and pears and make cheese," Lily answered. "You've enjoyed Camembert, I assume?"

"Not that I can remember," Callen said with a smirk. "But I'm sure my partner has."

"And Hetty, of course," Lily laughed.

"Of course," Callen replied.

"It is also dotted with incredible manor houses and chateaux," Hetty added. "A lot of wealthy people have made their homes there. Preston Burke's father owned this particular property for almost twenty years. It has extensive gardens and a large apple orchard. They even make Calvados. That's an apple brandy, Mr. Callen."

"So the bastard decided to become a country gentleman," Deeks said as he slouched sleepily against the doorframe. "At least Ruthie has an orchard to play in."

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked.

"Sounds like I should be in Normandy," he answered.

Callen pointed at one of the overstuffed chairs against the wall and Deeks took the hint and lowered himself into it, yawning noisily.

"How's the shoulder feeling?" Callen asked.

"Fine. Next time, warn me when that old man is coming at me with a needle," Deeks said.

"It won't be my uncle giving you the shot next time, it will be me," Lily said, smiling softly. "So, be nice."

"You sound like Kensi," he said.

"Keep me posted Mr. Callen," Hetty said "Especially if you need any help diplomatically on our end."

"Eric, send me the details," Callen said.

"Thanks for finding her, Eric," Deeks added. "I owe you, man."

"Bring me back some Calvados. Sounds yummy," Eric said, earning him a look of amazement from Hetty.

"Yummy?" She began to explain the subtle nuances of apple brandy as the screen went dark.

"When do we leave?" Deeks asked, ruffling his messy hair as he rose from the chair.

"After breakfast," Lily answered. "And a shower."

"Do I stink again?" he asked, smiling gently.

"No. I do," she said, as she walked wearily past him toward the door. "It's been a long night."

"Lily?" Deeks' soft voice stopped her. "Heard anything about Elan? Will he be arrested?"

"He's safe, mon ami," she answered, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "No one will come for him."

Deeks sighed deeply as she walked out, dropping back down into the chair and closing his eyes.

"She's impressive," Callen said.

"Yeah," Deeks smiled. "Elan thinks so too."

"You two are gonna listen to me when we get to Burke's place," Callen said firmly. "No going off on your own. You follow my lead and my orders. Am I clear?"

"Yessir, oh captain, my captain," Deeks smirked.

"I'm serious Deeks."

"I know. Got it."

"We'll get her back, man," Callen said quietly.

Deeks nodded, but his eyes betrayed the turbulent emotions going on inside and he was unable to hide them from Callen. The senior agent stood up and motioned for him to follow and he led him into the kitchen where he silently began to make coffee. He would occasionally glance at Deeks, who seemed to be off in his own world, but he also noticed that he had visibly started to relax as the aroma of the brewing coffee permeated the small room.

"Trust me, Deeks," Callen said. "We'll find her and bring her home."

The buzz of Callen's cell interrupted Deeks' reply and as he listened to the caller the expression on his face hardened.

"Are they alive?" he asked the caller, listening intently as his eyes locked with Deeks. "Keep me updated, Nell."

"What up?" Deeks face reflected the same hint of alarm that was on Callen's face.

"Some men just tried to kill Paul Walters and his wife," Callen said, swallowing hard. "Sam was with them and took out two men before he was wounded. The tactical squad managed to take down the other two. One's still alive. The Walters weren't harmed."

"Is Sam okay?" Deeks choked out and Callen saw him visibly pale.

"Sit down, Marty. Sam's gonna be fine. The wound isn't serious," Callen said, pulling out one of the chairs at the small kitchen table.

"It was Preston Burke," Deeks said softly. "He's wanted them dead from the beginning so he could have Ruthie all to himself without having to worry about anyone coming to look for her."

"But it could also be Hamid Shahpur," Callen reasoned. "He could have discovered the research Paul gave him wasn't viable and wanted payback."

Deeks shook his head vehemently and Callen could see the sudden flush of anger on his face. It seemed to be his predominant emotion lately and Callen wondered if he would be able to control him when they got to Burke's estate in Normandy. He knew Deeks carried a lot of residual anger from his time with Jürgen and it flashed into the open whenever he became frustrated or if someone was trying to control him and that was worrying. Preston Burke was smart; smarter than he had given him credit for and more ruthless than any of them thought possible. There was nothing in the intel Nell had gathered that even hinted that he was capable of this kind of deception and cold-blooded callousness. What the man had unleashed was premeditated and vicious, a carefully thought out plan that was complex and professionally orchestrated. Callen realized he was up against a master predator and the only one who had instinctively seen that almost from the beginning was Deeks.

Callen poured out a couple of cups of coffee and handed one to Deeks as he sat solemnly at the kitchen table.

"This is all Burke, G," Deeks said, shooting him a piercing look that left no doubt that he believed what he was saying.

"I believe you, man, but I want you to listen to what I'm about to say," Callen spoke quietly as he sipped his coffee. "You have to control your emotions when we confront Burke. If he planned this whole thing like we think he did, then he's gonna be prepared in case anyone shows up, especially you."

"Right now, he thinks I'm dead," Deeks said. "Unless Webb discovered otherwise."

"I'm going to assume he's done that already," Callen said. "I know Lily's good, but so is Webb and he would have kept his ear to the ground and want confirmation you were dead."

"He would have been waiting to hear from Duval," Deeks said breathlessly.

"And when he didn't, he would have gone to other contacts to find out why he hadn't heard from him," Callen said. "We have to assume he knows you're alive Deeks, which means so does Preston Burke. We won't be sneaking up on him."

"Do you think he's already moved Ruthie?" Deeks asked, his voice breaking as he spoke.

"I don't know, but we do know one thing," Callen said. "He's an arrogant sonofabitch. He believes he's smarter than anyone else and that just might trip him up."

When Callen noticed the distant look on Deeks' face, he went over to stand next to him. Not wanting him to withdraw and go silent again, he placed his hand firmly on the back of his neck to try and reassure him, and instantly felt the feverish heat radiating off his body. Deeks seemed to realize that as well, and rose quickly from the chair and walked back into the dining room, refusing to look at him.

"Deeks, you're burning up," Callen said, following right behind him.

"I'm fine," he mumbled as he slumped down in the overstuffed chair. "I just need a couple of aspirin and I'm good to go."

"You've been spending too much time with Kensi," Callen said.

"Am I being insulted?" Kensi asked as she poked her head around the corner.

"He's still running a fever," Callen reported.

Kensi immediately stepped up to him and gently pressed her hand to his forehead before sliding it down to his cheek, shaking her head when she saw the warning look in his blue eyes.

"You should go back to bed," she told him.

"Not happening," he said brusquely and stood up and pushed past her.

"Deeks," Callen said loudly. "You won't be any help if you aren't sharp or can't stay on your feet."

Deeks stopped and turned to look at both of them, his jaw clinched in anger. Callen knew he had touched a nerve and waited to see how he would react.

"You think a fever is going to stop me?" Deeks asked in amazement. "Have you both forgotten what I went through? I was able to escape from Jürgen once, after three days of torture. I managed to function through panic attacks and flashbacks that nearly drove me out of my mind. If I can keep moving during all that, you think I'm going to fall apart from a fever? You're both still babying me, dammit, and it's pissing me off."

"We haven't forgotten anything, Deeks," Kensi said softly.

"Yeah? Well maybe you should forget about what happened," he said bitterly. "Cause you sure as hell aren't letting me forget about it."

"Maybe we are being a little over protective," Callen said.

"You think?" Deeks stormed from the room and they heard the door to his room slam shut.

They eventually heard the shower go on and Callen turned and went back to grab another cup of coffee, not wanting to get into it with Kensi, but she followed him and silently fixed herself a cup.

"Does he really think we can ever forget what Jürgen did to him?" Her voice sounded ragged and Callen stepped over and gave her a quick hug, rubbing her arm until she smiled at him.

"I think he sees it in our eyes every time something happens to him," Callen said. "As hard as we try to pretend everything is back to normal, none of us seem to be able to let it be. I want to protect him, Kens. When I saw him clinging to that ladder in the water, I lost it. I told him he needed to be in control when we confront Burke, but I'm worried about how I'll react when I see that bastard."

"Me too," she said, her voice tiny as she tightly gripped the cup of coffee.

"What the hell did you say to him?" Elan asked as he slipped silently into the room. "He's slammin' things around in his room, so I'm assuming one of you said something that pissed him off or something bad happened. Which is it?"

"First, the good news. You're not going to jail," Callen said and began ticking off each bit of news on his fingers. "Preston Burke is hold up in a chateau in Normandy, orchestrated another hit on Ruthie's parents, during which Sam was wounded, Deeks is running a fever and got mad when we suggested he might not be up for a confrontation with Burke, which is why he's tearing up a room in Hetty's incredible townhouse."

"Shit. I'm gonna need coffee after that," Elan said tentatively. "Who do I have to thank for not being arrested?"

"Me," Lily said from the doorway.

Her blond hair was still slightly damp from the shower and she roughed it up as she came in on bare feet. She was wearing tight black jeans and a lavender long sleeved v-neck pullover that hung almost to her knees, and Elan's eyes followed her as she moved around the kitchen, pulling out stuff for breakfast.

"Which one of you is brave enough to go get Deeks?" she asked gently as she began cracking eggs. "He'll need his strength today."

"I'll get him," Elan volunteered. "I'm the only one he's not pissed at."

"Let me know if any of the furniture in his room is damaged," she said sweetly. "I can have it repaired before Hetty finds out."

"Lily?" Elan said as he stopped next to her and put his hand on her forearm. "Thank you."

"De rien, mon chou," she said, and nodded, her eyes locking briefly with his before he headed for Deeks' room.

"Tell me why your friend Deeks is so angry," she said as she began to whip up the eggs. "Hetty doesn't share much personal information unless it relates to a case, but we are going up against a very powerful man on his private estate and I need to know if he will be in control."

"It's none of your business," Deeks said as he stopped in the doorway.

Elan grabbed his arm and yanked him back into the dining room and they could hear a brief struggle that ended up in the front room. Kensi started to follow them, but Callen stopped her with a look that froze her as he walked out. When he reached the front room, Elan had Deeks pinned against the wall and was speaking softly and earnestly to him, and Deeks was nodding, his hands gripping Elan's shirt tightly in both fists.

"You and Joe are so much alike, you actually might be brothers," Elan said as he let him free. "You're both stubborn hotheads sometimes."

"You okay?" Callen asked Deeks.

"Elan was just reminding me not to be rude to the woman who helped save my life," he replied.

"And who he's got the hots for," Callen joked, trying to lighten things up.

"Yeah, that too," Deeks said, breaking into a smile.

"I'm not blind," Elan grinned.

"Or dumb," Callen added.

"Hey. She made the first move," Elan said.

"She doesn't know you usually smell like horses," Deeks laughed, slapping Elan on the back as they headed back to the kitchen.

Deeks quietly apologized to Lily, who didn't seem to have been bothered by his abrupt comment and quickly changed the subject by giving them a few of the details about the men taking the fall for Philippe Duval's death. Elan looked very uncomfortable about letting these men pay for something he had done, and voiced his concerns, causing Lily to glare at him and Deeks to remind him he was being rude to the woman who was saving his life. The slightly argumentative conversation was interrupted by Lily's phone, which she quickly got up to answer, walking into the dining room, her hushed questions barely understandable as she moved further away. When she returned she had an odd and very serious look on her face.

"A rental car was pulled out of the river this morning," she reported. "Malcolm Webb's body was inside. No cause of death yet."

"Are you kidding me?" Deeks sputtered.

"Burke is eliminating anyone who can connect him to Duval's death," Kensi said softly.

"Or he was just angry that Webb failed to eliminate Deeks," Callen reasoned.

"He still wants you dead, Marty," Elan said. "You sure you want to just walk in his front door knowing that?"

"You're all coming, right?" Deeks asked lightly and watched as they all stared back at him intently, their resolve obvious. "Then I'm good."

"This man is a sociopath and a highly intelligent one," Lily said. "His response may not be what you are expecting."

"You look like you have an idea," Callen said, quietly watching her.

"Let me go interview him," she said. "I can question him about Malcolm Webb's death and get a look at the layout of the house and grounds and what his security looks like. I may even be able to get some information on Ruthie."

"He might think it's odd that French Intelligence is asking the questions," Callen said.

"The file Hetty sent me has quite a dossier on Mr. Webb," she answered as she rose and started clearing the table. "I'll simply make Mr. Burke believe I am concerned about his safety. Whoever killed Malcolm Webb may just be after him as well. He's an important man in France and I intend to make him feel even more important than he already thinks he is."

"I'm glad she's on our side," Deeks whispered to Callen.

"And where will the rest of us be while you're stroking the bastard's ego?" Elan asked.

"Having lunch at a friend's farmhouse just outside Lisieux." Her confident smile settled them all down except for Elan.

"What if he has intel that you rescued us?" Elan asked. "What if that policeman who helped us isn't as closed mouth as you'd like and brags about what you did to the wrong person?"

"He won't," she answered blithely.

"You seem pretty sure of that," Callen said calmly.

"Remy's in love with me," she laughed.

"Isn't everybody?" Deeks asked, earning him a solid punch from Kensi.

"I don't like it," Elan said.

"You worry too much, mon chou," Lily said as she came up beside him and slowly massaged the top of his shoulder. "I am quite good at my job and he has no reason to suspect me."

"I hope you're right," Elan said quietly as he stood up next to her. "But we've all underestimated him before, so be careful."

"I think you are a little bit in love with me too, mon chou," she teased.

"Maybe," he said with a growing smile. "Now, tell me what mon chou means. You're not calling me an asshole are you?"

"It means 'my cabbage'," she said with a wide smile as she walked out of the room.

"I think it's another term of endearment, buddy," Deeks laughed.

"White people are weird," he said, shaking his head as they laughed. They didn't understand what he said after that in Arapaho, but he was smiling when he said it.

...

...


	20. Chapter 20

**Promises to Keep**

_Chapter 20_

...

The ugly man walked closely behind her and she was afraid to look at him, the overpowering smell of his cologne reminding her not to run. She had tried that the first time Preston had let her go in the flower garden, but the ugly man had pursued her and in two long strides had grabbed her arm roughly and yanked her to a halt, kneeling down so he was at eye level before smiling coldly as he warned her in a whisper not to do that again. She had laughed at his rough French accent and he had squeezed her arm so tightly in response that her eyes watered. He always wore a grey suit and his dark hair was shiny and slicked back from his forehead, making him look like one of the plastic toys she used to play with when she was little. He scared her.

She stooped down to uncover a large pumpkin in the potager garden, thankful just to be outside for a change. One of the cooks had told her about the vegetables they grew in this garden and she had liked how the name sounded, so she'd asked Preston if she could see it and he had surprisingly agreed. She was glad she's asked him before lunch yesterday, because after the phone call he'd gotten he had been raging. She had never seen him that angry. He'd yelled into the phone and then gotten very quiet as he spoke and she thought she had heard Deeks' name mentioned, but she wasn't sure. He never finished his lunch, spending the time on the phone in his private office. She had snuck up and huddled just outside the door to listen, hoping to hear Deeks' name again, but he had caught her there and yelled to the ugly man in French and he had come and taken her back to her room. Now the ugly man watched her every move as she wandered through the garden and it made her mad. She decided to stare back at him, so she crossed her arms and stood solidly in front of him, her eyes taking in his puffy nose and big ears and she decided he looked funny so she laughed at him.

"Hey stupid, wanna play hide-and-seek?" she yelled.

Then she took off running, dodging around and under the small, intertwining young pear trees and headed for the stables. He was fast, but she easily slipped under the trees, while he had to go around and by the time he got to the end of the row, she was already inside the stable. It was quiet and dim and the smell of the hay and the buckets of oats that hung below the stall doors was comforting. She opened one of the doors and slipped inside, pressing her body into the corner as a large brown horse with a white face swung around to stare at her. He lowered his head as he moved toward her and she trembled as his muzzle snuffled at her dress, his large nostrils blowing warm air on her arms as she wrapped them around herself. The horse continued to watch her, so she reached out and tentatively touched his nose. It was soft and as she stroked it the horse closed his eyes and it made her smile. The shouts of the ugly man suddenly filled the stable, startling her and the horse jerked his head up and moved toward the door to the stall, sticking his head out and effectively shielding her from view. She slid down into the straw and waited to be found, but when the man came toward the stall, the big horse's ears went flat and he whinnied loudly and tried to bite the man. Ruthie covered her mouth, trying not to giggle as she heard the man say something angrily before moving away, calling her name as he searched. She stayed with the big horse until she heard Preston call for her. She didn't want to lose her privilege of going outside, so she patted the big horse and slipped out the door and walked calmly outside to meet Preston. She never saw the ugly man again.

"Come inside, my sister and niece are here," Preston said. His voice was low and she could tell he was not happy, so she said nothing, just doing as she was told.

The thin woman she met had bright red lips and dark eyebrows and looked nothing like her brother. The little girl, who appeared slightly older than she was, just looked bored. Both had short, straight reddish blond hair and were dressed in what Ruthie always thought of as city clothes. The woman, whose name she didn't bother to remember, looked at her sharply and then reached for a huge shopping bag overflowing with tissue, marked with interlocking letters and a French store name Ruthie couldn't pronounce.

"My God, Preston, she looks like a ragamuffin," the woman said with a frown. "There's hay stuck in her hair. Where the hell do you let her play?"

The woman began pulling the strands of straw from her hair, shaking her head as she berated her brother and she saw Preston's jaw tighten.

"Emily, bring the other packages," his sister said as she took Ruthie's hand, jerking her along beside her as she headed for the stairs, her high heels clicking sharply on the tile floor.

"You're a Burke, young lady," she said archly. "It's time you started looking like one."

When they got to Ruthie's room, the woman began laying out dresses and sweaters, each one more depressing than the next. Her daughter Emily just stared coldly at her, her mouth occasionally twisting into a smirk as clothes began to cover the bed. Ruthie was forced to try on each outfit and forced to listen to them criticize her body and her messy hair. When the woman came at her with a hairbrush, she ran from the room, only to be stopped by Preston coming up the stairs.

He took her hand and pulled her back into her room, where she sullenly stared down at the floor.

"Georgia, I need you to take Ruthie to your house in Caen this morning," he said quickly. "I'll send a couple of men with you to keep an eye on her. She has a tendency to run. I'll let you know when to bring her back later today."

"Right now?" Georgia questioned, none too pleased as far as Ruthie could tell. "Emily and I were going to Giverny for lunch this afternoon."

"Emily's staying here and you are going to Caen with my daughter," he said harshly. "So don't argue with me, I'm really not in the mood. I can easily have your funds cut off if you continue."

The woman seemed to pale as he spoke and Ruthie realized she wasn't the only one afraid of Preston. Emily looked pissed, but there was a hint of fear behind her eyes that Ruthie instantly recognized. She didn't know where this place Caen was, but if she could get away from Preston for even a short time she would go willingly and even wear one of those horrible dresses the woman had brought.

After Preston left with Emily, the woman was quiet and even smiled briefly at her as she helped her dress. Ruthie allowed her to brush her hair and was surprised at how gentle she was.

"He doesn't hit you, does he?" she asked softly as she fussed with her wild hair.

"No."

"Good," she said, her hand shaking slightly as she smoothed Ruthie's new dress.

"Where's Caen?" Ruthie asked.

"Not too far," she answered. "We can have lunch in the garden, but you have to promise me you won't run away. Please."

Ruthie heard the fear in her voice and so she agreed and the woman smiled and took her hand and led her out.

...

...

Deeks couldn't relax even though they had cleared the outskirts of Paris. Even with Lily's assurances that no one was coming to arrest Elan, he couldn't shake the feeling that they would be stopped at any moment and have to watch Elan dragged from the car and shoved into a police van. He could never let that happen and the familiar feel of his gun against his back was a constant reminder of what could happen if they were stopped. He was fairly certain Hetty would not approve of a shoot out on the streets of Paris involving American agents and the local police, but he wasn't willing to see Elan go to jail either and that thought troubled him. He was a cop at heart, even though he was now an NCIS agent, although a recently resigned one, and the realization that he would willingly shoot down other cops to protect Elan's freedom deeply disturbed him. His mind reluctantly flickered with long hidden memories from the ranch and he felt his heart begin to race. He glanced quickly back at Elan as remembered images flashed in his head of being surrounded by a pack of coyotes in the snowy meadow where he'd almost been killed. The sound of Elan's rifle as he'd fired to scatter the frenzied animals reverberated through his mind, making him shiver at the thought that he might be having a panic attack, something he hadn't experienced since going back to South Africa. Elan had saved his life. Elan had saved the people he loved and then had pulled Jürgen off of him and trampled that crazy bastard into the earth. He felt his chest tighten as the memories exploded unchecked, the numbing cold of the frozen ground of the meadow becoming fused with his desperate fight against the deepening water of the pit and he began to hyperventilate.

"Deeks?" Callen's hand solidly gripped his shoulder, but he was caught up in the combined flashback and didn't respond.

The next thing he remembered was sitting on the side of the road, his back against the SUV with Kensi tightly holding both his hands as the others stared down at him. Callen knelt in front of him and squeezed his shoulder, a slight soft smile breaking through the worry that creased his face.

"Are we there yet?" Deeks asked, as he tried to catch his breath.

"It's been awhile since you suffered one of those," Callen said as he helped him to his feet.

"Yeah. Sorry," he said, feeling embarrassed and a little pissed.

"It's not surprising after what you went through" Callen answered. "We can put this off until tomorrow."

"No!" Deeks pushed him away and turned abruptly, almost colliding with Elan, who reached out and took hold of his arms and made him stop.

"Give yourself a break, Cuz," he said. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

He didn't want to listen to any of them, knowing they made sense, but angry that he had lost control and that it might affect the timetable to get Ruthie back. He gave Elan a look and he let him go.

"I can't give in to this again," he said as he hit the hood of the car with his fist. "Not now. Not with Ruthie so close."

"It will take about two hours to reach my friend's farm," Lily said, coming up behind him and laying a warm hand on his back. "It is out in the country and very peaceful. We can have lunch and you can rest a little while I go check out Preston Burke. Then we can make a decision. Okay?"

Deeks turned to look at her and nodded his agreement, then dropped his head to his chest when Kensi came up to press herself against him, wrapping him in a hug. She laid her hand on his cheek and whispered to him before turning to Callen and asking for a bottle of water and some aspirin. By the time they got him back in the car he was very weak and sweating as his fever began to climb. Callen took over the driving and pretty much floored it all the way to the farm, getting there in little over an hour and a half, which earned him an appreciative smile from Lily.

The farmhouse looked ancient, a half-timber and stone building that sat in a glade of Beech trees overlooking the low, rolling hills around Lisieux. There was a small barn of stone and brick by the pasture next to the house where three horses lined the wooden fence, curious about the visitors. The smell of apples hung in the air as the anxious group walked up the gravel driveway to be greeted by a hearty shout in French from a small grey haired lady in riding clothes. She was followed by a very old gentleman with a cane, carrying a small dog in his arms.

"These are my friends, Mimi and Luc Caron," Lily said as she hugged her friends.

"Bienvenue," the lady said softly as she greeted each person with a kiss on each cheek. When she reached Deeks, she kissed him but instantly pulled away and frowned, quickly feeling his face with both hands before questioning Lily rapidly in French.

"Monsieur Deeks, you need to be in bed," she finally said gently to him as she took his arm. "I have a small room in the back overlooking the apple orchard and you can rest there while I prepare lunch. Now I know strong young men like you do not like to be fussed over by old ladies, but you have a fever and from what Lily has just told me, an infected wound. So, no arguments, s'il vous plaît."

"Yes ma'am," Deeks said wearily as she led him slowly away. "You wouldn't happen to know Hetty Lange would you? You remind me of her."

"She's an old and dear friend," Mimi smiled. "She introduced Lily to us."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Deeks laughed. "Got any good stories to share?"

"Of course, mon ami," she answered. "But, then I would have to shoot you and Hetty wouldn't be happy with me if I did that. She's quite fond of you I believe."

"Who are you?" Deeks stopped to ask with a soft grin.

"That's a state secret," laughing as she pulled down the coverlet on the bed and fluffed the pillows.

Deeks thought it best not to ask any more questions even though her comment had made him even more curious, so he moved to the window. Holding the shear white curtains aside, he surveyed the orchard, its gnarled old trees reminding him of Ruthie and he closed his eyes, remembering the first time he had seen her and that made him smile. She was a tough little girl and he desperately wanted to believe she was holding her own against Preston Burke. But, even if she was, she had to be scared and feeling abandoned by everyone she knew and loved. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, willing himself to overcome the fever raging through his body, but he felt so weak that even his anger couldn't rouse him. Mimi came up beside him and took his arm, leading him over to the bed and gently pushing him down.

"I will leave you now so you can sleep," she said. "Things will look better after you've rested."

"I doubt it," he said abruptly.

"Have a little faith in your friends, mon ami," she answered. "Sometimes we have to trust in others when we are unable to go forward ourselves."

"Is that based on personal experience?" he asked.

"It's how Hetty and I became good friends," she said as she moved toward the door.

"That's a story I'd love to hear," he said wearily.

She answered with a musical laugh as she walked out and closed the door softly behind her. When she got to the main room she was greeted by anxious looks and took a minute to reassure them, before pulling Lily toward the kitchen. Kensi shot a worried look at Callen and walked back down the narrow hall to the room Deeks was in.

"She's worried about him," Callen said.

"And you're not?" Elan said gruffly and headed back out the front door, followed quickly by Callen.

Elan strode toward the pasture fence and Callen could tell he was upset and kept silent. The old man was talking softly to the three horses, who turned their heads toward Elan as he approached. He climbed up on the fence and dropped down on the other side next to one of the animals and began to expertly move one of his hands over the horse's shiny neck and down his shoulder before kneeling and running both hands down along his foreleg.

"His tendon's slightly swollen," Elan said softly.

"You know horses," the old man replied in perfect English. "The vet will be here this afternoon."

"You're American," Callen said.

"Used to be," he said cryptically. "I'm a very old expat with no desire to go home."

"Where was home?" Callen asked.

"Virginia," he said as he studied Elan moving calmly around the horse.

"He's got some Arabian blood," Elan said.

"You grew up around horses just like me," Luc laughed softly.

"Wyoming," Elan said as he turned to the next horse, who appeared to be waiting his turn.

"If you need to get rid of some of that excess energy you've got, feel free to ride that one," Luc offered. "He's young, but you look like you can handle him."

Elan flashed a quick smile before grabbing a handful of the horse's thick black mane and smoothly vaulting onto his bare back. The horse quivered slightly, but Elan rubbed a hand down his neck and leaned over and spoke softly in Arapaho. The horse quieted, his ears flicking back to listen as Elan pressed a knee into his side and turned him toward an open gate on the far side of the pasture. A slight kick sent the horse into a long pacing stride and another into a smooth gallop as Elan sat confidently on his back, his hair flowing out behind him as the two raced toward the open gate and the sweeping meadow beyond.

"That's a beautiful sight," Luc Caron said quietly. "Lily's quite taken with him."

"I think he feels the same about Lily," Callen said. "He's a good man. Ex-Army Ranger."

"So, not an agent like you?" Luc asked as he turned to look at Callen.

"No. He came to back up Deeks. The one with the fever," Callen answered. "They're sort of family."

"That's how I ended up in France," Luc said and then turned back to watch Elan race across the lower meadow. "I lost my best friend a couple of weeks after D-Day not too far from here. We had just carved our names into the bark of one of the Beech trees along the road our unit was on when a sniper got him. I just couldn't go home after that. They recently cut that tree down, along with many others our soldiers carved their names into. Officials said they were diseased. Pissed me off and a lot of the locals too. People forget the past too easily now."

With that, the old man leaned down to pick up the little dog at his feet and leaning heavily on his cane, he limped slowly back to the house, leaving Callen alone to wait for Elan. He watched him work the horse in the far meadow until he felt Lily walk up beside him.

"Does he have horses of his own?" she asked as she watched Elan turn the horse in their direction.

"He and his uncle breed horses," Callen said. "Not sure if he has any of his own. I really don't know much about him to be honest, except to know he would do anything for his family."

"Are he and Deeks related?" she asked, watching Callen as emotion rippled across his jaw.

"No, but that doesn't mean they don't think of each other as family," he said.

"And you? Is that how you feel about Deeks?" she asked. "Is he like family to you?"

Callen turned to stare at her, his eyes flashing slightly at the familiarity the question posed.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asked stiffly.

"Why are you so afraid to voice the obvious?" she asked curiously. "I watched you when we found him in that pit. Your emotions were all over your face."

"It's complicated," he finally answered.

"Dealing with family usually is," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Most don't understand why we do what we do and they are in danger simply because they are related. You are fortunate to have people close to you who do understand and who will fight for you just as hard as you fight for them. That's a real family."

"Is Hetty family?" he asked, turning his head to watch her reaction.

"By blood, no, but in blood, yes," she said.

"That's rather cryptic," he said with a smirk. "Care to elaborate?"

"We met during a operation that overlapped between French Intelligence and the DIA," she said softly. "Things got messy and we both were wounded and taken captive. It was how I met Mimi. She was still working then, but at a desk. She broke protocol and managed to get us out with a little help from Luc. We recuperated here and have been fast friends ever since."

Callen had other questions, but Mimi called them for lunch and he held on to them for later. Elan easily slid off the back of the horse and vaulted the fence to join them, looking flush with energy, his eyes following Lily as she led them into the house.

...

...

Lily smiled seductively at the security guard as she showed her credentials at the gate to Preston Burke's estate. He still eyed her suspiciously, but she gave him the impression she was unconcerned, speaking sharply to him when he questioned her about her business. He made a call and then waved her through. As she drove along the winding road through the extensive grounds, she realized just how difficult it would be to do an extraction, if it came to that. The spacious lawns were broken by a few large trees here and there, but there were few places to hide and she occasionally glimpsed security cameras high up in a couple of the trees. When she reached the house, it was hidden behind a tall stone wall, the only entrance a stout iron fence, beautifully designed, but strong enough to keep people out or in, as the case may be. There was heavy security here as well, with cameras and armed guards and Lily got the impression that Preston Burke was ready for anything. After showing her credentials once again the huge gate swung open and she drove into the courtyard. When she exited the car they attempted to search her, but the man who tried found himself face down in the gravel.

"You seem rather sensitive to being touched, Mademoiselle," a thin, bearded man in a gray suit came to stand beside her, motioning for the guards to stand down.

"I am with French Intelligence," she said coldly. "And I don't let anyone touch me when I am working. And today, I am, so if you would be so kind as to take me to Monsieur Burke, I have an investigation to complete."

"And what investigation would that be?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep and his French excellent, although he certainly wasn't French.

"That would be between Monsieur Burke and me," she answered.

"Do you have an appointment?" he asked.

"Your name?" she asked.

"Koller."

"May I see your passport?" she asked as she took a step toward him.

"Why do you need to see my passport?" he asked testily.

"Because I don't like you," she said firmly. "You are hindering my investigation and if I am correct in my assumption that you are not a French national then I will order your arrest and deportation. Does that answer your question?"

The man's face hardened as she spoke, turning quickly away as he punched a number into his cell phone. She waited impatiently as he talked quietly to someone in English, his voice rising briefly in protest before he ended the call. When he turned toward her, his face was flushed, but he motioned for her to follow him and she smiled softly to herself as she entered the lavish entry hall. She had been in quite a few of these old chateaux in her life, but this one was extraordinarily beautiful, the furnishings exquisite and the layout expansive. She was led into the main room and saw Preston Burke for the first time. He was sitting in a wing backed leather chair, impeccably dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a dark gray silk shirt.

"That will be all Koller," he said dismissively.

They both watched the man leave and Lily sat down across from Burke and pulled an iPad out of her shoulder bag.

"Thank you for seeing me, Monsieur Burke," she said quietly.

"Koller has informed me you are with French Intelligence," he said. "However, he failed to inform me just who you are."

"My name is Lily Roche," she said, letting her voice go soft and slightly musical in its cadence.

"And why does French Intelligence need to speak to me?" he asked tightly.

"An American named Malcolm Webb was found dead yesterday," she said kindly. "He was murdered Monsieur Burke and he worked for you."

She waited to see his reaction, but saw only a small clinching of his jaw, which surprised her.

"Webb handled security for me," he said as he rose and went to a sideboard and poured himself a drink. "How did he die?"

"He was garroted in his car and the car was then dumped into the Seine outside of Argenteuil," she said solemnly.

"That information could have been given to me over the phone," he said, turning to stare at her. "Why are you delivering it in person?"

"You are a very important and respected man in our country, Monsieur Burke," she said, smiling softly. "We are concerned for your safety. The men who did this were quite brutal and you must be protected from such men. His death took place the same day a well-respected police captain was killed along with a couple of his men. If the deaths are connected to Malcolm Webb, we need to know. The men who killed the policeman are being arrested today, and I would like to show you their photographs to see if you have ever seen them before."

Lily saw a hint of satisfaction appear briefly on Burke's face as she held out the iPad with the photos of the men she had framed for Duval's death. She watched anger and disappointment replace the look of overconfidence when he looked down on those common criminals. She felt certain he had expected to see Deeks and Elan's photos and he could barely contain his anger when he didn't.

"Is there something wrong, Monsieur Burke?" she asked innocently.

"Do you think I am in danger?" he asked as he turned back to the sideboard. "I have my niece here and I am expecting several high ranking government officials to be joining me as my guests this afternoon. I wouldn't want their safety compromised."

"Why would you be in danger, Monsieur?" she asked. "Unless Monsieur Webb was involved in something unsavory under your orders."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, turning to confront her.

"Monsieur Webb was recently arrested in the States for assaulting a federal agent," she said calmly. "He was released into your custody. It is quite possible that his death had something to do with the attack on your estate in Bel Air. Our intelligence indicates that several people were killed, including the brother of Captaine Duval. We also have been informed that a little girl was kidnapped. If you have any information regarding that incident it might help us solve Webb's murder."

"The little girl was the child of old friends," he said, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "I was told that she died at the hands of the kidnappers."

"How sad," she said softly. "She was so young."

"How old was she?" Emily asked from the doorway.

"She was nine," Lily said as she turned to face the girl.

Preston Burke had been under fairly tight control throughout most of the interview, but Lily saw only raw anger in his eyes at the girl's question. He moved quickly to her and gripped her arm, forcing her out into the hall where Lily was unable to hear what he was saying. There was no mistaking that he was unsettled and that gave Lily hope that Ruthie was here somewhere. She had no idea what story he had told his own family about her, but she was now certain it had not been the one his niece had just overheard.

...

...


End file.
